more than they're cracked up to be....

ATHENS: GLIMPSES OF HOME

Seed hulls thickly cover the ground near the brick retaining wall at Wilson Hall. A few chipmunks pepper the scene, cheeks bulging. But the squirrels steal the show: nearly ten sit in a row atop the wall, devouring and mussing the neat piles of black oil sunflower seeds and unshelled peanuts that Vicky Butcher has laid. “Nineteen squirrels are the most I’ve seen,” says Butcher, an Administrative Assistant in the College of Arts and Sciences Dean's Office. For nearly forty-five years, someone has fed the squirrels at Wilson Hall. Ms. Butcher has done so for eighteen and a half. “I have no idea how much I spend. If I knew I would probably stop,” Butcher says. “During the winter, I go through six 25- pound bags each. When it’s really bad, I also put out birdseed.” Over long weekends or breaks, a Guardian Angel takes her place. “He watches,” she says. “If I haven't put food out for a couple of days, he feeds them.”

It was 1908. Ohio University’s President Allston Ellis, reputedly showy and vain yet an able administrator, had recently had a major confrontation with the former University President, Charles Super. Ellis, having held office for seven years and would until his untimely fatal heart attack in 1920, was careworn. A series of unfavorable public criticisms had triggered a mandatory Presidential four-week vacation. He was slated to tour and observe eastern Normal Schools, which trained students to become teachers. Harvard was one of his stops. While being entertained by Professor Albert Bushnell Hart, something frolicking on Harvard’s Yard caught the eye of the man with a propensity for display. From a November 1902 edition of Harvard Illustrated Magazine, an article by George Allan England notes: “Every morning at seven our almoner fills the green boxes about the Yard, which serve as arboreal pantries. There is also a certain tin pan whither the squirrels come to drink; they are quite at home with us and know it.” On the fateful day of June 18, 1908, a committee was formed. From the Board of Trustees minutes: "A motion by Boyd, seconded by Kinnison, was unanimously adopted appointing Ellis, Welch, O'Bleness, Wood, Biddle, and Jones a committee to consider the advisability of securing squirrels for the campus. Said committee to report at a subsequent meeting of the board.”

Going out to sweep the chaff at the end of the day, they start to appear. “They recognize the sound of the broom,” Ms. Butcher says. They know her: she knickers, coaxing them with peanuts. ”The first few years I named them, got to know them. Then they would disappear and it hurt.” She holds her white bucket full of peanuts, smiling proudly, talking to them, worrying over one’s muddied nose. “Last summer’s drought drove them to water,” says Butcher. “When they came back I didn’t have as many of the old squirrels. I’ve had to retrain a new generation to trust me.”

It was the early 1990’s. President Charles Ping and President Kazuo Yamada continued to deepen the twenty-year-old rich bond between Ohio University and Chubu University in Japan. Numerous gift exchanges were made. Most notable: receiving cherry trees for the banks of the Hocking River near the Convocation Center, and giving a replica of Cutler Hall’s cupola, which was placed on a raised surface in a Japanese city park equivalent of our green. But less renowned is the gift of grey squirrels. Ping said, “The City Council came to Athens and were quite taken with the squirrels. They asked if we would ship some to them so they could release them at a new city park. As it turned out, it was very complicated to ship live animals.” Dr. James Bryant, then Vice President for Regional Higher Education, said, “When talking with the city council, the squirrels would come in through the open window of my Cutler Hall office and run around on my desk. The Japanese fell in love with them.” They specifically requested twenty-three squirrels, no more and no less. “You cannot put more than one squirrel in a cage, especially stressed ones,” said Dr. Bryant. “We had to have twenty-three cages, each with appropriate food and water receptacles and use a licensed breeder to capture them. We had to get confirmation and an export license. We took all the seats out of an O.U. plane and flew to Chicago, then to Tokyo. From there it was a two-hour drive in busses to get to Komaki City, which is on an island.” The Japanese were waiting for the squirrels as the centerpiece display at an International Fair. There were no other squirrels on the island so releasing them was not advised. “They had constructed an enormous, circus-wagon like cage with wheels to move to the park where they would be kept afterwards,” said Dr. Bryant. “It was one of the most interesting undertakings in all my years.” One squirrel died a few days later. A squirrel’s life expectancy is little more than a year. One year later, there were only fourteen left.
Dr. Robert Lilley was a visiting professor to Chubu from April to June in 1997. From his journal entry, June 19, 1997: “Tohru Washizu, Director and chief of the Komaki International Affairs Division met with us. We hiked up the hill to a park where the Gray Squirrels given by Ohio University are kept. It was very hot and muggy, and most of the squirrels were hiding, but the ones we saw looked in good repair.” On a sign at the park, the header at the top said: “Cute International Ambassadors of Friendship, American Eastern Grey Squirrels.” The rest reads: “These eastern gray squirrels are a gift from the people of Ohio to the people of the City of Komaki as a symbol of the friendship between the City of Komaki and Ohio University. You can see these squirrels in all corners of the rich green University of Ohio campus." Josep Rota, Associate Provost for International Affairs said, “Unfortunately there is no squirrel left on the campus of Chubu University. I am inclined to believe they died because of the environmental conditions. The climate and similar factors were just too different.”

Bark is peeled off of the trees in strips. Squirrels carry old used tissues or bits of fluff. They are nesting. In the pre-spring barren trees, the nests, or drays, stand out like blots of ink on blank paper. All over the grass, little holes have been dug, evidence of a search. “Our grounds people do a wonderful job keeping the grounds looking good. They use those big leaf vacuums,” says Ms. Butcher. “The squirrels don’t bury the nuts deeply, they just find a tuft of grass. When the grounds are cleared, most of the peanuts that they have hoarded get ground up and shipped out somewhere else.”

Whether our squirrels carry Harvard genes, or suffer the loss of their Chubu-bound relatives, some things have not changed: squirrels like to make their homes on campus greens. Keeping safe from predators, they prefer traveling in groves of trees rather than ground travel. The eastern gray squirrel, Sciurus carolinensis, officially classified as a rodent, can weigh up to 1.5 pounds, measure 16- 20 inches long, and always flash a white belly that stands out amongst the speckled grey. Characteristically bushy tails can be used as a parachute, an umbrella, a blanket, and a cushion for falls, and for balance and communication. A squirrel must habitually gnaw with its constantly growing teeth in order to prevent the puncturing of their own skull.
Typically hoarding more food than it can eat, a grey squirrel practices singular burying, called “scatter hoarding”. Most nuts are forgotten and not recovered, which leads to the inadvertent planting of a tree. Once rampant in the area, droves of squirrels would migrate in waves up to half a billion in size, disturbing efforts of agricultural production. Ohio law required a quota of squirrel skins to be turned in with tax payments. Chestnuts were a major foraging choice, until the blight obliterated nearly all chestnut trees, reducing squirrel populations. Increasing human settlement also pushed out the tree planters, which brought about another law: only six squirrels per bag during hunting season.
Do they seem more intelligent, these creature we view every day? Does their chirruping have a slight Bostonian accent? Do they aspire for more, or pine for things lost? Whatever the case, they have made their home with us, with no intention of ever leaving.

They leap with soundless grace, lilting on air. A crow caws suddenly, and they scatter, prone to instinct. One lets out a screeching alarm, warning the others. It carries, message conveyed from tree to tree. “They are still wild creatures,” Ms. Butcher says, “but I do think the squirrels add a lot to the campus. To see the students so thoroughly delighted (about) these critters running around, that gives me a thrill, too.” After a few minutes, one hesitantly approaches, freezes, paws poised in question. She tosses a peanut. Within 5 seconds, it has chewed through the shell, corn-on-the-cob style, going for the gold.

Special thanks to: Bill Kimok, Susan Knoer, Judy Connick and Doug McCabe of the University Archives; Kelee Riesbeck and Joanne Prisley of Athens County Historical Society; Dick Piccard, Josep Rota, Dr. Robert Lilley, Dr. James Bryant, Dr. Charles Ping; Betty Hollow, Mariel M. Jungkunz, Sally Linder, and Vicky Butcher. Translation by eric@jcastle.info.