As you struggle to survive this semester, know that you are not alone: the struggle to survive is intrinsic to all life forms on earth. And – like the coyote over the rabbit, the lion over the wildebeest, Deuce McAllister over Ricky Williams – some inevitably win the struggle. At least it went something like that in prehistoric times. Nowadays, life for all species is much more equitable. Federal and state programs, like wildlife refuges, hunting seasons and Pell Grants allow organisms to thrive in niches for which they are not necessarily best fit, tipping the natural balance of competition and sometimes causing overpopulation problems. One such problem is overtaking many colleges and universities in the U.S., including Nicholls.
In the waning days of cock-fighting and pit-bulling, you might be predicting a campus overrun by muscular chickens and scrawny dogs with big heads. However, neither of these provokable animals is the problem at Nicholls. Instead, it’s the squirrels!
You’ve seen them all across campus, loitering around our new, N-branded waste receptacles or leaping across short buildings in single bounds. But of all places squirrels could be congregating – like parks, suburban malls or Starbucks – why colleges?
Some say it’s because the gilded halls of academia are “full of nuts.” Ha. Ha. To those facetious individuals, I would point out that the most prevalent salty snack in concession machines at Nicholls is, in fact, chips and not nuts.
The more objective people say that squirrels infiltrate college campuses looking for a place to become a mascot. Because no campus wants to nickname their teams “The Mighty Squirrels,” these failed campaigners loiter long enough to enroll and work toward a degree.
One of the favorite modern majors of squirrels on U.S. campuses is culinary arts, no doubt encouraged by this past summer’s Disney movie, “Ratatouille.”
Although this phenomenon explains squirrel congregation at Nicholls over the past few years, none have ever graduated from the program. In fact, no squirrel ever progresses beyond the Cajun Cooking class. Very strange.
Another favorite college major of squirrels is Languages. You might think that squirrels simply “bark” to make noise, like certain tenants in your dorm or apartment complex, or that their barks are only a “primitive” form of communication, like that used by certain tenants in your dorm or apartment complex.
But in truth, most squirrels test out of composition classes because they are experts in punctuation and grammar. When they don’t understand another’s bark, they contort their caudal vertebrae in to a question mark shape. When they wish to confirm, they erect these vertebrae like an exclamation point. When they want to give more explanation, they extend their tail horizontally – like the dash I just used nine words ago. With some effort, squirrels can even form a colon when barking, but this punctuation involves two bits of digestive activity that we will not further discuss here.
Music is also a popular major among squirrels. Squirrels like jazz, especially the music of Dizzy Gillespie, the balloon-cheeked player of the “up-do” trumpet. Before Dizzy, squirrels were thin-faced and lame-tailed, like a rat with nice hips. But ever since Dizzy recorded, “Salt Peanuts!” (perhaps more famously sung by Jim Carey in “Cable Guy”), squirrels have been storing acorns and nuts in their cheeks in homage. And when Dizzy pioneered Afro-Cuban jazz, that’s when squirrels learned to twitch their tails. Ever seen a lawn full of hip squirrels twitching to “Manteca”? I did once, but I’ve been discharged since then.
Not all squirrels enter Nicholls right out of high school. Some squirrels transfer from other universities. Those with cheeks painted purple and gold are of course from Baton Rouge and are particularly prominent during football season. Squirrels with reddish fur are from the northwest and northeast institutions. Those that bark using the “d” sound to begin “th” words are from the southwest. Those that are green and white are probably sick and should be avoided.
Squirrels are college survivors. So take some tips from them during the semester: leap between buildings, pack some snacks in your cheeks, and become expert in punctuation rules. And you, too, can win the struggle.
