Squirrels Quotes

“Man is the Reasoning Animal. Such is the claim. I think it is open to dispute. Indeed, my experiments have proven to me that he is the Unreasoning Animal... In truth, man is incurably foolish. Simple things which other animals easily learn, he is incapable of learning. Among my experiments was this. In an hour I taught a cat and a dog to be friends. I put them in a cage. In another hour I taught them to be friends with a rabbit. In the course of two days I was able to add a fox, a goose, a squirrel and some doves. Finally a monkey. They lived together in peace; even affectionately.

Next, in another cage I confined an Irish Catholic from Tipperary, and as soon as he seemed tame I added a Scotch Presbyterian from Aberdeen. Next a Turk from Constantinople; a Greek Christian from Crete; an Armenian; a Methodist from the wilds of Arkansas; a Buddhist from China; a Brahman from Benares. Finally, a Salvation Army Colonel from Wapping. Then I stayed away for two whole days. When I came back to note results, the cage of Higher Animals was all right, but in the other there was but a chaos of gory odds and ends of turbans and fezzes and plaids and bones and flesh--not a specimen left alive. These Reasoning Animals had disagreed on a theological detail and carried the matter to a Higher Court.”
― Mark Twain, Letters from the Earth: Uncensored Writings

“Aunt Prue was holding one of the squirrels in her hand, while it sucked ferociously on the end of the dropper. 'And once a day, we have ta clean their little private parts with a Q-tip, so they'll learn ta clean themselves.' That was a visual I didn't need. 'How could you possibly know that?' 'We looked it up on the E-nternet.' Aunt Mercy smiled proudly. I couldn't imagine how my aunts knew anything about the Internet. The Sisters didn't even own a toaster oven. 'How did you get on the Internet?' 'Thelma took us ta the library and Miss Marian helped us. They have computers over there. Did you know that?”
― Kami Garcia, Beautiful Creatures

“Americanism in all its forms seemed to be trashy and wasteful and crude, even brutal. There was a metaphor ready to hand in my native Hampshire. Until some time after the war, the squirrels of England had been red. I can still vaguely remember these sweet Beatrix Potter–type creatures, smaller and prettier and more agile and lacking the rat-like features that disclose themselves when you get close to a gray squirrel. These latter riffraff, once imported from America by some kind of regrettable accident, had escaped from captivity and gradually massacred and driven out the more demure and refined English breed. It was said that the gray squirrels didn't fight fair and would with a raking motion of their back paws castrate the luckless red ones. Whatever the truth of that, the sighting of a native English squirrel was soon to be a rarity, confined to the north of Scotland and the Isle of Wight, and this seemed to be emblematic, for the anxious lower middle class, of a more general massification and de-gentrification and, well, Americanization of everything.”
― Christopher Hitchens, Hitch 22: A Memoir

“Of course we will send postcards to Nutsawoo. And we shall bring him back a present as well. In fact,' she went on, with the instinctive knack every good governess has for turning something enjoyable into a lesson, and vice versa, 'I will expect all three of you to practice your writing by keeping a journal of our trip so that Nutsawoo may know how we spend our days. Why, by the time we return, he will think he has been to London himself! He will be the envy of all his little squirrel friends,' she declared.

Penelope had no way of knowing if this last statement was true. Could squirrels feel envy? Would they give two figs about London? Did Nutsawoo even have friends?”
― Maryrose Wood, The Hidden Gallery

“She said the words, and then she had a strange moment of seeing them, hanging there over her head.

"You're going to vacuum up that squirrel!"

There is just no predicting what kind of sentences you might say, thought Flora. For instance, who would ever think you would shout, "You're going to vacuum up that squirrel!"?”
― Kate DiCamillo, Flora & Ulysses: The Illuminated Adventures

“Ant Prune was holding one of the squirrels in her hand. ‘And once a day, we have ta clean their little private parts with a Q-tip, so they'll learn ta clean themselves.'
That was a visual I didn't need”
― Margaret Stohl, Beautiful Creatures

“Not much goes on in the mind of a squirrel.

Huge portions of what is loosely termed "the squirrel brain" are given over to one thought: food.

The average squirrel cogitation goes something like this: I wonder what there is to eat.”
― Kate DiCamillo, Flora & Ulysses: The Illuminated Adventures

“Never did he fail to respond savagely to the chatter of the squirrel he had first met on the blasted pine.”
― Jack London

“Hello," said Brannoc politely, despite his terrible hangover.
"What the hell are you?" demanded the squirrel.
"We are fairies," answered Brannoc, and the squirrel fell on the grass laughing, because New York squirrels are cynical creatures and do not believe in fairies.”
― Martin Millar

“To assist him in his duties there was a rather large police force which did nothing but extract confessions, mostly from squirrels.”
― The Harvard Lampoon, Bored of the Rings: A Parody of J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings

“A 6-inch cannon. I've only ever seen those on a Saypuri dreadnought... And it looks like they have, or expect to have, 36 of the damn things."

"And they plan to do what with them? Bombard the hills? Fight a war with the squirrels?”
― Robert Jackson Bennett, City of Stairs

“Through the metal bars of the jungle gym, she watches two gray squirrels chase each other around a tree. Around and around and around. So gratuitous.”
― Thomas Pierce, Hall of Small Mammals: Stories

“You think I'm daffy?"

"Don't be offended by a snap judgment. It's true of anyone who cares about squirrels.”
― Edward W. Robertson, Breakers

“Moose are the squirrels of Alaska.”
― Tim Moon

“[The tamed squirrels] made jolly companions but became very annoyed with her if she read too long; one would climb onto her shoulder, down her arm and sit on the page of her book 'with bushy tail outspread'.”
― Mary Allsebrook, Born to Rebel: The Life of Harriet Boyd Hawes

“Sitting under a tree in a park in the summer, listening to birds and squirrels chirping while reading a good book is priceless.”
― Charmaine J. Forde

“This town is infested with squirrels, have you noticed?"

"I'd rather say it's rich with squirrels.”
― Elizabeth Mckenzie, The Portable Veblen

“On other walks, the retriever had been dismayed to discover the squirrels, which he could approach safely, were terrified of him. They froze with fear, stared wild-eyed, small hearts pounding visibly.

WHY SQUIRRELS AFRAID? he had asked Travis one evening.

"Instinct," Travis had explained. "You're a dog, and they know instinctively that dogs will attack and kill them."

NOT ME.

"No, not you," Travis agreed, ruffling the dog's coat. "You wouldn't hurt them. But the squirrels don't know you're different, do they? To them, you look like a dog, and you smell like a dog, so you've got to be feared like a dog."

I LIKE SQUIRRELS.

"I know. Unfortunately, they're not smart enough to realize it."

Consequently, Einstein kept his distance from the squirrels and tried hard not to terrify them, often sauntering past with his head turned the other way as if unaware of them.”
― Dean Koontz, Watchers

“All day long the red squirrels came and went, and afforded me much entertainment by their manoeuvres. One would approach at first warily through the shrub-oaks, running over the snow crust by fits and starts like a leaf blown by the wind, now a few paces this way, with wonderful speed and waste of energy, making inconceivable haste with his “trotters,” as if it were for a wager, and now as many paces that way, but never getting on more than half a rod at a time; and then suddenly pausing with a ludicrous expression and a gratuitous somerset, as if all the eyes in the universe were fixed on him,—for all the motions of a squirrel, even in the most solitary recesses of the forest, imply spectators as much as those of a dancing girl,—wasting more time in delay and circumspection than would have sufficed to walk the whole distance,—I never saw one walk,— and then suddenly, before you could say Jack Robinson, he would be in the top of a young pitch-pine, winding up his clock and chiding all imaginary spectators, soliloquizing and talking to all the universe at the same time,—for no reason that I could ever detect, or he himself was aware of, I suspect. At length he would reach the corn, and selecting a suitable ear, frisk about in the same uncertain trigonometrical way to the top-most stick of my wood-pile, before my window, where he looked me in the face, and there sit for hours, supplying himself with a new ear from time to time, nibbling at first voraciously and throwing the half-naked cobs about; till at length he grew more dainty still and played with his food, tasting only the inside of the kernel, and the ear, which was held balanced over the stick by one paw, slipped from his careless grasp and fell to the ground, when he would look over at it with a ludicrous expression of uncertainty, as if suspecting that it had life, with a mind not made up whether to get it again, or a new one, or be off; now thinking of corn, then listening to hear what was in the wind. So the little impudent fellow would waste many an ear in a forenoon; till at last, seizing some longer and plumper one, considerably bigger than himself, and skilfully balancing it, he would set out with it to the woods, like a tiger with a buffalo, by the same zig-zag course and frequent pauses, scratching along with it as if it were too heavy for him and falling all the while, making its fall a diagonal between a perpendicular and horizontal, being determined to put it through at any rate;—a singularly frivolous and whimsical fellow;—and so he would get off with it to where he lived, perhaps carry it to the top of a pine tree forty or fifty rods distant, and I would afterwards find the cobs strewn about the woods in various directions.”
― Henry David Thoreau, Walden or Life in the Woods

“She looked and stroked the welt, smiling: a squirrel's teeth, sharp, sweet, dangerous.”
― Yevgeny Zamyatin, The Dragon: Fifteen Stories

“Kaylee giggled as he tunneled up inside her sleeve.
Out popped his head for a quick look, then he took leave.
He enjoyed scaling up, down and around her shirt.
What a sweet, funny and adorable flirt.”
― Melinda K. Trotter, Tickles the Pet Squirrel

“She swat his hand away as he touched her breast again. "Stop that. I just want to-" Undeterred, he had gone for the button placket of her shirt. She scowled in exasperation. "All right, then," she snapped, "do as you please! Perhaps afterward we could manage a coherent discussion." Twisting beneath him, she flopped onto her stomach.
Christopher went still. After a long hesitation, she heard him ask in a far normal voice, "What are you doing?"
"I'm making it easier for you," came her defiant reply. "Go on, start ravishing."
Another silence. Then, "Why are you facing downward?"
"Because that's how it's done." Beatrix twisted to look at him over her shoulder. A twinge of uncertainty caused her to ask, "Isn't it?"
His face was blank. "Has no one ever told you?"
"No, but I've read about it."
Christopher rolled off her, relieving her of his weight. He wore an odd expression as he asked, "From what books?"
"Veterinary manuals. And of course, I've observed the squirrels in springtime, and farm animals and-"
She was interrupted as Christopher cleared his throat loudly, and again. Darting a confused glance at him, she realized that he was trying to choke back amusement.
Beatrix began to feel indignant. Her first time in a bed with a man, and he was laughing.
"Look here," she said in a businesslike manner, "I've read about the mating habits of over two dozen species, and with the exception of snails, whose genitalia is on their necks, they all-" She broke off and frowned. "Why are you laughing at me?"
Christopher had collapsed, overcome with hilarity. As he lifted his head and saw her affronted expression, he struggled manfully with another outburst. "Beatrix. I'm... I'm not laughing at you."
"You are!"
"No, I'm not. It's just..." He swiped a tear from the corner of his eye, and a few more chuckles escaped. "Squirrels..."
"Well, it may be humorous to you, but it's a very serious matter to the squirrels."
That set him off again. In a display of rank insensitivity to the reproductive rights of small mammals, Christopher had buried his face in a pillow, his shoulders shaking.
"What is so amusing about fornicating squirrels?" Beatrix asked irritably.
By this time he had gone into near apoplexy. "No more," he gasped. "Please."
"I gather it's not the same for people," Beatrix said with great dignity, inwardly mortified. "They don't go about it the same way that animals do?"
Fighting to control himself, Christopher rolled to face her. His eyes were brilliant with unspent laughter. "Yes. No. That is, they do, but..."
"But you don't prefer it that way?"
Considering how to answer her, Christopher reached out to smooth her disheveled hair, which was falling out of its pins. "I do. I'm quite enthusiastic about it, actually. But it's not right for your first time."
"Why not?"
Christopher looked at her, a slow smile curving his lips. His voice deepened as he asked, "Shall I show you?"
Beatrix was transfixed.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“It's so weird how people like hamsters so much better than squirrels," Veblen added, knowing that hamsters were hindgut fermenters and coprophagists, whereas squirrels were nothing of the sort.”
― Elizabeth Mckenzie, The Portable Veblen

“More than a decade ago, when my office was in the suburbs of Bethesda, Maryland, I used to enjoy feeding the squirrels in the yard through which my patients walked to reach the waiting room. The little critters—certainly nothing to be afraid of—grew increasingly tame, until some were taking the peanuts from my outstretched hand. I left a can of raw peanuts in my office waiting room to remind me to give them a few handouts each day.
One day, I was sitting with one of my patients in the office when we heard a startling clatter coming from the waiting room. I got up somewhat fearfully to investigate. The door from outdoors into the waiting area was ajar and the can of peanuts knocked to the floor. Encouraged and empowered by my generous freebies, squirrels had invaded the inner sanctum of my office.
That invasion seemed humorous and harmless enough until a few days later, when I heard one of my patients shriek as she came through the pathway to the office. A squirrel had climbed up her pants leg, seeking a peanut handout.
I stopped feeding the squirrels.
Obeying negative legacy emotions is like feeding wild critters. They will take over and grow in power until we have unmanageable beasts trying to overwhelm us from inside our heads. We need to stop feeding the squirrels in our heads. We can start by refusing to listen or respond to them.”
― Peter R. Breggin, Guilt, Shame, and Anxiety: Understanding and Overcoming Negative Emotions

“Wherever there are squirrels,
The hawks will flock”
― Charmaine J Forde

“I watched the squirrels play today. And it seemed that they knew nothing other than to be what they were created to be. And with the space to think of nothing else, they could not have been anything more.”
― Craig D. Lounsbrough

“Black squirrel on a slag of stone--carry me home.”
― Joy Harjo, Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings: Poems

“That woman’s got nuts loose in her brain and a bunch of squirrels chasing after them.”
― Sleyca

“Squirrels are not indigenous to the Isle of Man, though quibbling about native species does seem bold when dealing with the reality of a talking mongoose.”
― Thomm Quackenbush, The Curious Case of the Talking Mongoose

“in the sweet green cold London
spring
I watch a tall grey heron
stomping down its reed nest
that's sprouting everywhere
like garden-sheared hair

and all my living
and all my dead
run up my arms
like squirrels.”
― Dorothy Porter