DAY IN THE PARK

You know that thing squirrels do when you're about to hit them with your car? That annoying back and forth, confused scurrying business? That's nothing. Run into them on foot, say, doing an 8 minute mile, and they don't scurry. They know what's up. In fact, you have unkowingly incited a turf war. Just as you don't invite them into your gutters, they don't want you showing up at the park. Making matters worse is that squirrels of today are fatter than their forefathers (thanks to a steady diet of refined foods we drop on the ground) -- they have these asses and they're not afraid to pop a squat on them right in front of your path. Coming between you and your workout are more suirrels than you've ever seen in your life.

The last time I encountered this problem, I froze, clearly a sign of backing down.  Ultimately, I could be heard by nearby tennis-goers, saying what any other person in my running shoes would say: “Excuse YOU!” and “little prick!” Then I carefully ran around him, whispering, “Excuse me” and continued on my way.

Needless to say, I’ve had to map out new parks and have been pretty successful at finding ones where people outnumber squirrels or where the squirrels are just more educated and better-behaved. Where squirrels know their place. Where they “squirrel” around doing whatever it is squirrels are meant to do. And they leave 95 percent of the terrain, (let's forget it was intended to be shared by man and animal) to the humans because, well, we’re bigger!