As my time in LA winds down, I’m struck by the little things that change between my visits. Not just the usually what’s-the-new-restaurant updates or the i-can’t-believe-they-thought-that-was-a-good-rebuild architectural analysis of the neighborhood. No, this is something smaller. Literally.
When I was a kid, squirrels existed only on TV or in my eagerly awaited Ranger Rick issues or, finally, in person, at summer camp up in Big Bear along with their chipmunk cousins.
Now, suddenly, there they are scampering across the Vons parking lot or merry in the park. What is up with that? I’m no ecological expert, but I think I remember hearing something about species popping up in weird places being a bad thing. Who knows. But where’d they come from? First the squirrels then what?
It’s not that I have a problem with them. I actually really like squirrels. But probably only because they were like an animal treat when I was a good – a strange foreign creature that everyone else in the country got used to but I never did. From what I hear, lots of people hate them – like they’re the furry equivalent of pigeons. Did some helpful Noah release two in Pt. Fermin Park and then – bam – squirrels everywhere? It’s like Outbreak, but with bushier tails.