Me: Hey, Steve the Squirrel.

Steve the Squirrel: Hey, do you mind if I just get it on with this other squirrel right now?

Me: Right here?

Steve the Squirrel: Right here.

Me: I don’t know, man. That sounds kind of —

Steve the Squirrel: Great, thanks.


I am minding the business of a little squirrel chewing on a nut by an oak tree this morning, thinking about a recent time when I watched one destroy an acorn on the quad. Shortly afterward, my gaze wanders about ten feet to my right to the trunk of the oak, where I see another squirrel trying to bust one on a third squirrel in the early afternoon daylight. Sorry, original squirrel. You’re suddenly less interesting.

A tiny cluster of spectators is also noticing, ogling over the scene, maybe even taking notes. I choose to watch stoically with a deep respect for nature and a determination to avoid nut jokes.

They’re doing it on a tree trunk. Holy crap, because tree trunks are vertical.

I completely understand that squirrels have claws, but that does little to negate the fact that they’re having sex _on the wall of the tree._ I don’t understand the physics of that. I can maybe understand the ability to scurry up trees quickly, but I would imagine sex on a wall takes some kind of traction or adherence to the basic rules of gravity.

Maybe the squirrels’ relationship doesn’t last. Maybe she’s unimpressed by his performance. Doesn’t matter, they still have something write home about. I’m left to assume the original squirrel off to the left has been to some wild squirrel parties—he remains unfazed by a) sex happening right by him and b) wall sex happening, period.

Things get a little weird when they start making direct eye contact with me.

I decide to go with my animal instinct, so I don’t back down. I cleanse all weakness from my system and play the impossible-to-win staring game that you play with your pets, except your pets aren’t having sex. The morally compromising downside of this step is you have to accept the possibility of being seen staring at animal sex. I am willing to do this.

While locking eyes, my mind begins to wander and I wonder what it would be like if these were people. Why is it fair that these guys can get down and dirty with each other? What I’m trying to say here is I want to be allowed to get down and dirty in public. I contribute way more to society than a squirrel does, for example. I have two jobs. I am nearly positive that no squirrels have any jobs. I should be able to reap the sexual benefits attached to my upheld social responsibilities.

If I dressed up in an animal costume, would that make it okay? I ask because my knowledge of social standards is telling me that might have even worse implications. Still, I can’t be too mad at the little guys. All things considered, they’re still cuter than me.

After a long morning of fervent public sex, it’s nice to be able to relax at the end. High on an upper bough, the two lovebirds perch, one squirrel on top of another, cuddling, reflecting on the day to come and their plans for the future. At this point my interest in voyeurism has come to a close.

I wave goodbye to my new friends and with a wink apologize for my blatant intrusion on the most intimate moment of their animal lives. The only moral I can think to derive is that anything, even public sex, can be made okay with a little atmosphere. Just add fur.