Twenty-Five: The Legend of the Squirrel

And because I'm woefully behind on this whole one-post-a-day project, I'll just leave this little story right here:

Once upon a time, three women walked through Washington Square Park. The sunlight was flitting through the trees as they laughed loudly with each other and sipped their cappuccinos. Jazz wafted across the square from the Japanese musicians honing their craft for all to enjoy. The day was beautiful and magic was in the air when...

THUMP.

All three women jumped and immediately started to shriek. To their left a healthy and plump squirrel had just leapt from one 100-foot-high tree branch to another 100-foot-high tree branch, only to grasp onto a dainty twig too small to sustain his weight and plummet to the asphalt. Expecting squirrel brains and guts to spill out across the sidewalk, the women watched in horror as the squirrel twitched violently and then lay flat.

Hurriedly averting their eyes in a mad attempt to block out the horror, the three women rushed away from the sight, crying out in sorrow. But the youngest of the three glanced behind in pity only to find...

The squirrel running across the sidewalk.

Needless to say the recently quieted shrieks resumed once more, but this time passersby noted amazement lining the edges of the women's sounds. Running back to the location, they gazed in awe as the squirrel sat very still in the grass, collecting his breath. How could this make sense? The women had just watched this little animal plummet to his death not seconds before. They had witnessed him twitch and writhe, and ultimately go cold. They had heard the dead and sickening thud of his body against the ground. How in the world was this squirrel now...

Climbing the tree?

With supreme agility the tiny creature made his way back up the 100-foot-high tree and lighted once more upon its branches. The women stood in wonder at the little guy, wishing him sturdier branches and better days ahead.

And that is how we found out in a New York City park that squirrels can sustain a fall of over one-hundred feet and be totally ok. According to online sources, these amazing little animals fluff out their tails to use as a parachute when falling and are able to puff up their bodies in order to break the fall. This would be the equivalent of an adult human sustaining a fall of more than six-hundred feet.

The Snoke women have a new hero. And his name is squirrel.


~Hannah

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