More Squirrels and a Homecoming

In past posts I have discussed my theory that the squirrels in north Georgia are either stoned or, more likely, zombies. Those are the only two explanations I can come up with to explain their lethargic response to approaching cars and their strange behavior like trying to bury their nuts in an overhead power line. Two recent letters to the editor in the local paper support my suspicions that the squirrels here are not normal.

Randy Hanzlick of Blue Ridge wrote that he and his wife boat regularly on Lake Blue Ridge, and “in the last two weeks we have seen something we haven’t seen before … squirrels swimming in the middle of the lake nowhere near the shore.” He commented that it “seems odd we have not seen this in the past and now it’s like an epidemic.”

I’ve heard that all mammals swim, even elephants and cats, but squirrels swimming in the middle of a lake is something else. We’re not talking about a back yard kiddy pool. Lake Blue Ridge is a big lake. My son and I have gotten lost on it. While I’m sure that squirrels occasionally fall into the water, I would think that a squirrel’s first instinct would be to head for the nearest shoreline, rather than strike out for a distant shore like some rodent Diana Nyad.

Significantly, Mr. Hanzlick has never seen squirrels swimming in the middle of the lake before, and now they are an “epidemic.” I’m surprised the major news networks have not descended on Lake Blue Ridge in droves to cover this odd phenomenon since they seem to prefer fluff news to real news. I guess their reporters don’t read the News Observer regularly.

In the same issue of the paper, under the heading, “Road count of dead squirrels yields hundreds”, Nick Kimberly of McCaysville commented on the number of dead squirrels he has seen on Fannin County roads. He wrote that “the number of squirrels who never made it to the other side” has “skyrocketed,” and that “we seem to have a suicidal squirrel situation in our area.” He also observed that while the number of dead squirrels on the road has “rapidly increased,” the number of dead possums has declined dramatically.

Now you may poke fun at Mr. Kimberly and think that he has too much free time on his hands if he is taking a census of dead squirrels and possums. You may also conclude that that he needs to get a life, but I believe his observations provide further evidence that there is something unusual about the local squirrel population.

The absence of possum carcasses on the roads is easily explained. Like the wooly caterpillars, they are leaving town because of the influx of bizarre squirrels.

I cannot confirm the methodology Mr. Kimberly used in making his count. I suspect that in some cases it may be difficult to tell whether you’re looking at a squashed squirrel or a squashed possum. For accuracy’s sakes I hope he divided his road kill finds into at least three categories: squirrel, possum, and mush. Regardless, the numbers are striking and lend credence to my theory. I plan to stay on top of this story.

Homecoming. Meredith and I went to our niece’s high school homecoming football game recently. She is a senior at Towns County High School and was on the homecoming court. Towns County is two counties east of here. All school kids in the county, from grades 1 to 12, go to the same school campus. The biggest city in Towns County is Hiawassee, with a population of 880 according to the 2010 census. The town is nestled in the mountains and borders on picturesque Lake Chatuge. Hiawassee’s main claim to fame is that wealthy people have built large, expensive, and spectacular lake front vacation homes there. They call them cabins. Cabins my ass! Some of them are larger than presidential palaces in third world countries.

The homecoming game and pageantry was quintessential small town America. It was almost enough to give you tooth decay.

The homecoming pageantry occurred at half time when the homecoming court was introduced. The homecoming queen was crowned by last year’s homecoming queen. I thought it was above and beyond the call of duty for last year’s queen to return to Towns County to crown her successor; then it occurred to me that she may have never left.

I have been to more than my share of high school homecomings. My sons played in the band in high school so I not only got to see my sons’ high school homecoming every year, but also the homecomings of other high schools when the band played at away games. I’m pretty sure that one of the levels of hell requires you to watch endless homecoming ceremonies.

The most interesting part of every homecoming is when the announcer introduces the members of the homecoming court and tells you about their accomplishments and aspirations. It’s always something like so and so plans to attend such and such college and be an astrophysicist or enter the field of primary education or dance with the Joffre Ballet. You never hear that Anna Marie aspires to be a pole dancer in an Atlanta strip joint, that Kimberly would like to undergo substance abuse counseling before she turns 20, or that Christina plans on being a mule for a major Mexican drug cartel. Because north Georgia is part of Appalachia, I was hoping for some local flavor like Betty Jane plans on marrying a taxidermist, having eight kids, and living in a double-wide, but no luck. My impression is that all the girls aspired to get the hell out of rural Georgia as quickly as possible.

Still, there is something about their young optimism and naiveté that is pure and refreshing and untouched by cynicism. I, unfortunately, am not untouched by cynicism. I am not a “glass half full” person. I’m not even a “glass half empty” person. I’m a “just wait, some asshole is going to break the glass” person. So when I go to a high school homecoming and hear their bright youthful desires for the future, I can’t help but think, “Boy, are you in for major disappointment.”

Perhaps it’s that cynicism that causes me to construe remarks and statement in ways that they are not intended. For instance, the announcer’s brief bio of each of the girls on the homecoming court included their favorite memories of high school. The favorite memory of one girl who was on the cheerleading squad was spending Friday nights with the football team. You can imagine the thought that immediately popped into my mind. I’m thinking that it’s no wonder she got so many votes.

I looked around to see if anyone else in the crowd had the same thought. Apparently not. I’m going to attribute the lack of reaction to the innocence of simple rural life, but the real explanation is probably that I’m a depraved and twisted person. I wonder how long it will be before I’m tarred and feathered and ridden out of town on a rail?