Family Bonding and Friendship Come to the Forefront in The Wild

Several years ago, Dreamworks released Madagascar, and shortly thereafter, Disney released The Wild. Both were computer-animated films about a ragtag group of animals who escape a New York City zoo and are forced to fend for themselves in the wild. Both groups included a lion and a giraffe. On the whole, the premises looked so similar that they sort of canceled each other out in my mind and I didn’t watch either of them, but I finally got around to seeing The Wild recently. While I occasionally found it a bit manic for my tastes, for the most part, I thought it was a fun movie.

The Wild, directed by Steve Williams, is a quest story in which daddy issues play a major role. In that regard, it is rather like Finding Nemo, but in this case, the father, a lion named Samson (Kiefer Sutherland), has several plucky sidekicks aiding him in his search every step of the way. Samson delights in regaling the other zoo animals with tales of his early years in the wild, back when the ferocity of his roar sent the most monstrous wildebeests running for cover.

His son Ryan (Greg Cipes), who can’t produce anything more than a kittenish snarl, does not appreciate the tales so much, and after a particularly humiliating incident, he decides to run away and find his roar. By the time he has a chance to rethink his plan, he’s already on a truck headed out to the harbor. Neither he nor Samson, who dashes off to the rescue, can imagine the perilous journey that lies ahead.

The movie’s early scenes showing the rapid transformation the zoo undergoes at night and the amusing ways in which Samson and his companions interact with the big city in which they find themselves are entertaining. While one scene involving a peculiar sport the zoo residents play dragged a bit for me, I loved the homage to Star Wars that accompanies the friends’ arrival in the city at large, and I also found the incorporation of animals reflective of the escapees amusing. For instance, the runaways catch a glimpse of Geoffrey, the Toys ‘R’ Us giraffe, on a sign as they run through the city streets.

Joining Samson on his mission are four close friends. The closest is the squirrel Benny (Jim Belushi), who is annoying but fiercely loyal. He also harbors a not-so-secret crush on Bridget (Janeane Garofalo), a dignified giraffe. I found this plot point pretty odd until I recalled the romance between Donkey and Dragon in Shrek and figured that if I could accept that, this wasn’t too much of a stretch. Ultimately I enjoyed the way their interaction with each other changed over the course of the movie. Many of the stand-alone comedic moments belong to Nigel (Eddie Izzard), a koala from a London zoo who is plagued by the popularity of a plush toy in his image. Of the four, the snake Larry (Richard Kind) made the least impact on me, but he still gets a few good gags in.

The movie includes several prominent nods to The Lion King, from a glimpse of the marquee for the Broadway show in the city to the general prevalence of wildebeests in the plot. The opening in particular offers many visual parallels with that Disney classic, as does the climax, revolving around a deranged wildebeest played by William Shatner – the only voice actor, incidentally, who I recognized at once. Meanwhile, another element of the climax reminded me of one of my favorite scenes in Return of the Jedi, though I don’t think that was a direct homage.

The visuals in the movie are excellent, from the natural landscapes to the bright lights of a New York City night, and most of the animals have a very realistic look to them. The lions and wildebeests often seem as if they were lifted out of The Lion King and given computer-animated embellishment. Some of the smaller characters, particularly the snake and the pigeons, look a bit cartoonish and silly, but in most cases, the animation is impressive. I wasn’t particularly fond of the soundtrack, mostly, I guess, because I tend to find it distracting when songs designed for radio are deposited in animated movies. I suppose I shouldn’t feel that way, since I often enjoy their use in live-action films, but I generally didn’t feel like the songs added much. The exception is the wildebeest song that is essential to the plot, though frankly, I just found that one pretty weird.

Overall, I liked the themes of father-son understanding and self-discovery, along with the importance of having friends who will stick with you no matter what happens. Some of the humor gelled with me and some of it didn’t; at times, I think there was a little too much going on and the jokes got lost in the shuffle. Mostly, though, this is a well-crafted movie whose characters complement one another well and conquer their fears through the power of love. Factor in the top-notch animation, and it’s easy to be wild about this family-friendly film.

A Sleepyside Antique Pulls a Vanishing Act in Mystery of the Phantom Grasshopper

I started reading the Trixie Belden teen mystery series in January. When I glanced through a list of titles to see what was coming up, one that really leaped out at me was The Mystery of the Phantom Grasshopper. “Phantom grasshopper???” I wasn’t sure just what that meant, and I looked forward to solving the mystery of what exactly a phantom grasshopper was. And how would just a small insect provide enough intrigue to sustain an entire novel? I have finally read this 18th volume in the series, which was written by a ghostwriter under the name of Kathryn Kenny, and I now have the answer to that question.

Phantom Grasshopper is another hometown mystery for the Bob-Whites, who had some pretty wild out-of-town adventures in volumes 11 through 15 before settling down to more ordinary exploits in Sleepyside, NY. This time around, 14-year-old Trixie, her best friend Honey, Trixie’s older brothers Brian and Mart, Honey’s adopted older brother Jim and their neighbors Dan and Di are back in school after a seemingly endless summer, and they’ve made the acquaintance of Miss Lawler, a young woman who is helping out with history classes by showing off the coin collection in her care. Kind but reclusive, she seems as though she may have a secret of two to hide.

Thanks to that coin collection, this book incorporates the word numismatist, which is another term for a coin collector. It’s one of several interesting tidbits sprinkled throughout the novel, which also includes references to Benjamin Franklin, old-timey music and a movie that I can only assume is King Kong. In addition to having my favorite title in the series, Phantom Grasshopper also boasts what may be my favorite chapter title: A Squirrel Gives a Clue. Given my lifelong fascination with those bushy-tailed creatures, that one gave me a big smile.

As someone who doesn’t drive, the discussion of the peculiarities and challenges involved with being an adult non-driver struck a chord with me, and as someone who has always wanted a tree house, I loved seeing the “see-crud” arboreal hangout belonging to Trixie’s little brother Bobby. It also made me happy to see that Regan, the horse expert who works for Honey’s parents and is my favorite regular side character in the series, has a fairly large role to play here, mostly because of an adorable little horse named Mr. Pony who he is teaching Bobby how to ride.

The mystery itself does not, rather to my disappointment, involve an actual grasshopper but rather a local artifact in the shape of a grasshopper that disappears after a wicked storm. Trixie’s fondness for this piece of local history drives her interest, which leads to an investigation as well as a chance for the Bob-Whites to take to the radio in an appeal to help them find the missing Hoppy. The intensity of her investment in this object seems a little goofy, especially since it hasn’t come up in previous books, but then it does seem in her nature to throw herself wholeheartedly into things once she has latched onto them.

Unlike with some of the books in this series, nothing in the writing style really stood out to me. The characters seem themselves, and there seems to be a good balance of dialogue and narration, but the quirkiest thing about the book is the title object. It’s not an especially memorable entry, and none of the dialogue particularly jumped out at me as being quote-worthy. Still, I found the story fun, and it has some moments of real peril. While I think the book is ultimately a bit more mundane than the oddball title suggests, it still offers an excellent chance to see the Bob-Whites at work on their home turf.

Squirrel's New Year's Resolution: Great for New Year's, Squirrel Appreciation Day or Anytime

It’s January 21st. How are you doing on your New Year’s resolutions? In Squirrel’s New Year’s Resolution, written by Pat Miller and Kathi Ember, Squirrel encounters the concept of resolutions for the first time and is intrigued. She first hears about them on the radio, which sends her off to the library to do some research. What could a resolution be, and how does one go about making one?

I love that Squirrel’s first idea is to go to the library for answers. More specifically, she wants to consult the knowledgeable librarian, and Bear provides her with a useful definition: “a promise you make to yourself to be better or to help others.” That’s a limited but pretty decent explanation that people of any age can apply to themselves. Squirrel likes the idea, but she can’t think of anything specific that she can do, and she spends the rest of the book trying to figure it out, growing more discouraged as each friend she consults shares his or her resolution. Will she ever be able to find one of her own?

Resolutions are a great idea, a way to nudge you in the direction of doing something great that you may feel yourself too timid or lazy or unmotivated to do. But they’re just words, and making that list of goals – or just a single goal in the case of the characters in this book – is less important than taking action. It takes until the end of the book for Squirrel to hit upon a worthwhile resolution, but when she does, she realizes that she has already been carrying it out all day.

I like the story’s emphasis on helping other people, which is ultimately more of a focus than self-improvement, though that comes into play too, especially with one of the characters wanting to learn how to read. Squirrel is a very kind-hearted creature, and showing consideration for her friends just comes naturally to her. All of the characters in the book are lovable: wise Bear, encouraging Dr. Owl, enthusiastic Skunk, good buddies Mole and Turtle, friendly Rabbit and even grumpy Porcupine. They help demonstrate the value of having a diverse group of friends who can all learn from each other. The characters in this book are anthropomorphic but fairly realistic-looking. I especially like the detail on Squirrel’s bushy gray tail.

We’re three weeks into the new year now, but it’s never too late to start making an extra effort to be kind to others or to do something a little out of one’s comfort zone. Squirrel’s New Year’s Resolution may be ideal for January, but its sweet celebration of friendship is worth lauding all year long.

Say Goodnight to the Sun and Squirrels Alike With Last Song

With some books, the illustrations are obvious accompaniments to the text. In other cases, the words and the pictures almost tell two different stories. Such is the case with Last Song, written by James Guthrie and illustrated by Eric Rohmann. The text of the book is a short poem along the lines of Goodnight Moon but much more truncated. Indeed, only three objects are specifically mentioned, and none of them is the reason I checked this book out of the library.

When I did a search for squirrel books at the library, this one came up. No squirrels are mentioned in the text, but the illustrations are full of them. In the pictures, this is the story of three squirrels. They all have brown fur and cheerful expressions, and they look to be about the same size; my guess would be that they are all supposed to be siblings, since they share a nest.

This is a very short book that contains only 27 words stretched out across several pages, all in one sentence. It’s a very soothing sort of rhyme, but this is not a story that’s going to take up much time at bedtime. I can’t imagine it taking much more than five minutes, and that’s if you stop to study each of the pictures. The only way it might be stretched out longer is if you disregarded the text and encouraged your child to provide new narration for what the squirrels are doing throughout their day. But with only 11 two-page spreads and one illustration taking up a single page, even that probably won’t take long.

Not only is this book short, it’s physically small, a square that’s only about seven and a half inches on any side. It’s not that much bigger than a gift book such as those created by Bradley Trevor Grieve. Hence, there’s less to look at, though what’s there is quite lovely, particularly the atmosphere, hazy and bright early in the book, dark and star-studded at the end. The squirrels are charming as well, always chasing each other in a flurry of activity, except when they finally return to the tree to rest after a busy day. Another nice element of the book is the cover, which is extra-thick and has a pattern of leaves and acorns on it. Cut out of the middle in the front is an amorphous hole, through which we can see the sleeping squirrels. It’s a pretty neat way to feel we’re getting a peek at them.

Last Song is a cute book that certainly makes for appropriate Squirrel Appreciation Day reading. It retails for $11, and I’m just not sure there’s enough there to make it worth the price of the book for most people, but if you have a young child who really loves squirrels, give Last Song a try.

In Kacy Cook's Nuts, Squirrels Are Best Appreciated From Afar

Last year, I discovered that January 21 is Squirrel Appreciation Day. This year, I started loading up on squirrel-related books as soon as January arrived in anticipation of this charming holiday, which led me to Nuts, the debut intermediate novel by Kacy Cook.

In this 2010 book, Nell is a homeschooled 11-year-old who lives an intellectually stimulating life with her two younger brothers. One day, they discover an orphaned infant squirrel squealing in the yard. After some debate, they take the squirrel inside to rescue it from a neighboring cat. Some research online gives Nell an idea of how to proceed – though she carefully ignores the warnings that injured or orphaned wildlife should be taken to a rehabilitator. Nell wants to take care of this squirrel herself, and she’s convinced that if she does a good enough job, she’ll be able to keep it as a pet.

Nell, who serves as the book’s narrator, is an engaging character. It’s easy to understand her reluctance to part with the squirrel, to which she soon adds another, as she discovers the brother of the first just a little later. The squirrels become her special project; though her brothers remain involved in their care, the bulk of the responsibility falls to her, and that’s the way she wants it. These are her babies, and they quickly become her obsession.

The book seems in slight conflict with itself, since Cook very clearly intends to impress upon her young readers that they should not try this at home, yet at the same time, she sort of gives them a primer on how to do exactly that. Maybe she’s hoping that when they truly understand how much work is involved, children like Nell will lose interest in such a task and decide to leave it up to the professionals. In any case, the book does get pretty preachy, which may be a turn-off to some.

In addition to the central message that caring for a wild animal is difficult, dangerous and sometimes even illegal, Cook sneaks in some other heavy-handed messages too. Through the character of Russ, a boy Nell initially dislikes but ultimately develops a crush on, Cook advocates hunting as a means of population control. She also seems eager to demonstrate the virtues of homeschooling and both the value and danger of the Internet. Finally, she encourages children to be honest; Nell’s little lie at the beginning of the book spins out of her control, leading to unforeseen consequences.

The overtly didactic nature of this book sometimes got in the way of my enjoyment, but it is an interesting story with likable characters and a neat glimpse at how squirrels grow and change from infancy to adulthood. For squirrel lovers around the 10-to-12-year-old range, Nuts balances fascinating facts with the old adage that if you love something, you must be willing to let it go.

How Many Ways Can You Cut a Pie? Squirrel Will Soon Find Out...

When I went on the lookout for books to review for Squirrel Appreciation Day, I didn’t expect a lesson on fractions to get tossed into the mix. But that’s precisely what How Many Ways Can You Cut a Pie? is. It’s very basic, but young children who read it should come away with the general gist of what fractions are.

This book, written by Jane Moncure and illustrated by Linda Hohag and Lori Jacobson, is a part of the Magic Castle Reader series, in which each book begins with an explanation that a library is like a magic castle and a book is a “word window”. Here, the window opens upon Squirrel, who’s busy preparing for the pie contest that Pig is holding. She’s already been collecting acorns, so she cheerfully makes her famous acorn pie. First one friend and then another arrives to ask her to share the delicious-smelling dessert, but she explains that it’s an entry in the pie contest. However, she will share once the contest is over.

The book introduces the concept of fractions by having the first visitor ask if she can divide the pie in half so they can each eat half and the second asking her to divide it into thirds. Eventually, one more friend arrives on the scene, and on the final page, Squirrel divides her pie into four pieces. It’s not the same pie that she started out with; there’s some complication on that point, as the piggy judge devours the entire pie, much more than she intended to eat. As a goodwill gesture, she collects a new basket full of acorns for Squirrel in hopes that she will make another pie and share this one with her friends.

If I were Squirrel, I’d be a little perturbed about having to bake another pie from scratch, especially since after eating her entire pie, Pig expects a piece of it the second time around. Nonetheless, Pig does apologize and does do the work of finding more acorns for the master baker, so the story does teach a lesson about owning up to one’s mistakes and forgiving those who make them.

After the story is over, we get a two-page spread showing seven pies, each divided into a different number of pieces, from two to eight. What’s missing from this is the inclusion of the word “fraction”. This book simply deals with the idea of dividing objects into smaller pieces.

This is a simple book with large print and one or two basic sentences on each page. The illustrations are cartoonish; other characters include a mouse and a frog, and they all wear clothes. The backdrop of the woods is nice, with a definite autumnal flavor as fallen leaves dot the ground.

As a story, there’s not much there, but for a very basic intro to fractions, How Many Ways Can You Cut a Pie? fits the bill.

Don and Roy Freeman Follow a Squirrel Through Washington, D. C. in One More Acorn

Author-illustrator Don Freeman is best known for Corduroy, the classic picture book about a teddy bear who lives in a department store and longs for a home. He created many memorable books in his lifetime, but one of his most cherished ideas never saw the light of day until last year.

As his son, Roy Freeman, explains in a note in the back, his father began working on One More Acorn, a story about a squirrel in Washington, D. C., during a trip to the Capitol in 1963. He spent so much time on it during that trip that he set up a meeting with his editor to talk about publishing the book, but before the meeting occurred, President John F. Kennedy was assassinated, and Freeman was too heartbroken to continue the project. It was only recently that Roy discovered his artwork and narration for the story, and with the help of artist Jody Wheeler, he brought his late father’s book to fruition.

One More Acorn is a beautifully illustrated tale about a gray squirrel – the father of his family – foraging for acorns to help his family get through the winter. As he darts here and there, hoping to find the nuts he buried weeks ago, fiery leaves surround him on every tree – and on the ground as well. He finds plenty of acorns, but he has his eyes on a particular prize: one extra-large nut he remembers finding long ago. Getting to it will require agility and cleverness.

Meanwhile, although the text only identifies the Washington Monument, the illustrations offer a charming tour of several of Washington, D. C.’s most prominent landmarks. Along with the interesting setting is a subtle message about the value of trees. Earl the Squirrel stumbles upon a Plant a Tree parade, and we see schoolchildren planting saplings. Then, of course, there’s the fact that he and his family live in a tree and that trees provide his food. A tree also helps him to get out of a tight spot toward the end of the book.

The story here is simple but enjoyable. There’s a soothing repetition to his interactions with his family, and it’s fun to get the squirrel’s perspective n things. For instance, when he sees the children doing their planting, he speculates that they, too, are on the lookout for acorns.

One More Acorn has a very realistic look to it, and while Earl and is family are anthropomorphized, they look and act as normal squirrels do. On one level, this is a little story about a squirrel preparing for cold weather, but it’s also a sort of love letter to the nation’s Capitol, whose atmosphere and excitement is beautifully captured here. If you got a kick out of Corduroy, you’ll want to have a look at this unique father-son collaboration.

David Sedaris and Ian Falconer Present the Darkly Humorous Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk

When I discovered in September that David Sedaris, one of my favorite authors introduced to me by a college class, had come out with a new book, I was excited. And being the squirrel enthusiast that I am, I loved the title - Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk: A Modest Bestiary - and the cover illustration. But I didn’t rush out and get it for myself. Instead, I bought a copy for my brother for Christmas, since he likes Sedaris as much as I do.

And then on Christmas morning, I realized that he’d had the same idea, which is especially nifty considering that Sedaris dedicated the book to one of his sisters. “For Erin, Christmas 2010,” reads Nathan’s stylish inscription. “Being a lass who loves squirrels, chipmunks and a good read, I hope this book helps you to ‘be of good cheer’!” We promptly had Dad take the obligatory photo of the two of us holding our identical books, and then we were free to peruse them at our pleasure.

Sedaris, a humorist widely known among National Public Radio enthusiasts, generally writes memoir-type essays, many of which are howlingly funny. At times, they’re also quite moving. In his stories, he introduces some pretty shady characters, but there’s always his comforting narrative presence to fall back on. He comes across as a man with a sharp wit but often a timid manner, especially in his younger years, and despite a twisted sense of humor, he seems like a fundamentally decent guy.

Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk is something of a departure for him. It’s a book of adult fables in which each story focuses on a different animal, or most often a pair of animals. Some of the stories have more characters, but many only have two of any consequence, and there are lots of conversations between incompatible creatures as a result. Ian Falconer, creator of the children’s book series about Olivia the pig, furnishes illustrations, usually one or two per story, but make no mistake: these are not meant for children.

There’s profanity aplenty, along with some rather lewd language. More than that, these stories are violent, with at least one character winding up dead in almost every single story. I guess Sedaris aims to demonstrate that life is brutal, and Falconer illustrates that well. His drawings are limited to a color scale of blacks, whites and reds, and the red is often used to indicate blood. The most grotesque illustrations in the book are found in two back-to-back stories, The Crow and the Lamb and The Sick Rat and the Healthy Rat.

With just one exception, all of the story titles are pairs of animals like the above or a single animal, as in The Motherless Bear, a cautionary tale about trying to milk your own misery for too long, and The Faithful Setter, about the trials of marriage and the rewards of fidelity. The main character in the former is one of the most annoying in the book, while the protagonist in the latter is one of the most likable. It’s one of only two stories written in the first-person, and in both, I felt a sense of connection with Sedaris himself missing in the other chapters. The rest seem pretty detached, but these two feel personal, and the narratorial voice is not far removed from Sedaris’s own.

While the setter story has to do with weathering a rocky marriage, The Grieving Owl, the last and longest story in the book, is about a widower who seems to have enjoyed quite a happy, albeit brief, marriage. The speaker is a gentle soul who doesn’t seem suited for the predatory life he’s been born into. He feels sorry for the prey he catches, and in the wake of his wife’s death, he tries to fill the void in his life by giving his victims a chance to teach him something fascinating about the world in exchange for their freedom. A clever and compassionate soul living amongst his uncouth and uncultured family members, he dares to live life on his own terms until zest for life wears down the edges of his loneliness. It ends the book on a refreshingly positive note.

Most of the stories aren’t so optimistic. Characters get shot and injected with viruses. They have their necks wrung and their teeth bashed in. They get swallowed whole and have their eyes pecked out. Pretty grim stuff. Just about every kind of misfortune that could befall a creature is depicted or referenced. What’s more, most of the characters aren’t very nice. They badmouth each other in vivid language and play very nasty tricks on each other. There are several stories in which there is nothing appealing about the main character or characters. There usually is some little lesson one can take away from the tale, but the overriding theme seems to be, “Boy, is life depressing!” Then again, maybe he hopes that by using animals to illustrate inhumane behavior, we people might be a little more inclined to act humane.

Along with the two first-person stories, my favorite tale is The Squirrel and the Chipmunk, from which the cover illustration is drawn. One of the most serene pictures in the book, it shows the male squirrel and the female chipmunk holding hands from opposite sides of a tiny, candlelit table. Each has a half-full glass of wine and starry eyes. In the story, the two have fallen in love, despite the objections of friends and neighbors. They are certain that their love transcends such superficialities. But the chipmunk realizes that all of the negativity has stirred up doubts after the squirrel mentions his love for jazz. Never having heard of such a thing before, she panics and begins to imagine all the horrible things it could be. It becomes her excuse for breaking things off with someone she adores. There’s nothing morbid about this story, but it certainly is a bittersweet tale about prejudices, reservations and regrets in the realm of romance.

If you’ve never read David Sedaris before, I’m not sure Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk is the place to start. I’d first recommend one of his essay collections, particularly Naked - the book that introduced me to his work in a Creative Nonfiction class - or Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim. I found I really missed his temperate narrative presence here. Additionally, while most of his books contain a liberal mix of the beautiful and the ghastly, most of the stories here are ultimately pretty gloomy. Nonetheless, there’s wisdom to be found in these pages, and if you like dark humor, then I would certainly give it a whirl. I waited until Squirrel Appreciation Day to post my review, but mostly, this is a book that makes me appreciate being human.

A Squirrel Attempts an Apartment Break-In in Nuts to You!

I’ve always wanted to have squirrels hanging around my house. Alas, nothing we put out seems to tempt them. In Lois Ehlert’s Nuts to You!, the narrator has a squirrel hanging around her apartment, seemingly bent on infiltration. The spunky child, who we never see, doesn’t much like that idea, though she seems to get a bit of a kick out of watching the bushy-tailed bandit attempt entry. She’s confident in the knowledge that her strategy will stop him in his tracks.

I don’t actually know for sure that the narrator is female, but considering that the author is a woman and she based the book on her own experience, that’s how I would imagine the child. It could just as easily be a boy speaking, but given the reference to Mom being mad at the squirrel for digging in the garden, it’s safe to assume the narrator is a kid.

The story is told in verse, with couplets. On all but two of the pages, the lettering is white; otherwise it’s black. The font is jumbo and easy to read, at least for the verses; scattered throughout the pages are tiny labels of various plants and animals. The words identifying them are unobtrusive, so they don’t interfere with the story, but you do run the risk of not noticing them at all; I didn’t my first time around. There’s more factual information in the back of the book, with four pages that discuss the classification, teeth, feet, tails, nests and food of squirrels.

The illustrations in the book are interesting. The creatures look mostly true-to-life; of the picture books I read this year in anticipation of Squirrel Appreciation Day, this one is definitely the least anthropomorphized. Squirrels and birds alike do have rather curious eyes, just black circles in larger circles – white for the squirrel, gray or yellow for the birds. Vibrant flowers, butterflies and other wildlife offset the drab brick red of the apartment building and the grayish brown of the squirrel.

I’ve never had a squirrel try to break into my house, but I have tossed peanuts at them on various occasions, just as the young narrator does. They generally respond quite positively to such an action, and it’s always fun to see what they will do with the prize that they have claimed. Nuts to You! captures the excitement of one of these encounters, and it shows just how much wildlife there is to be found even in the middle of a bustling city. Because the book is extra tall, it may not fit easily on a shelf, but the oversized pages are worth that minor inconvenience. This is a small moment that makes a big impression. I just wish that squirrel would come visit me!

Don't Suffer Through the Shoddy Sarah and the Squirrel

Last month, I celebrated Squirrel Appreciation Day for the first time by reviewing as many squirrel-related products as I could find. I also found myself at the website of my local library putting more squirrel books on hold, and I ventured over to Netflix to see if I might stumble upon anything there. I came up with one title: Sarah and the Squirrel. I’d never heard of it, but I figured it was worth giving it a whirl. Next time, I might have to think about being a little more discriminating.

The Holocaust has been the subject of many powerful movies, particularly Schindler’s List and Life Is Beautiful, and I’ve sometimes had the impression that it’s hard to mess up a movie that delves into such compelling subject matter. Boy, was I wrong.

In this hour-long movie from the early 1980s, Sarah is a young girl when her family goes into hiding in the woods to escape the Nazis. They live in an underground shelter and urge Sarah to keep quiet and not to let anyone see her. But they let her go out in the woods on berry-collecting missions, and on one such occasion, the rest of her family gets rounded up. She tearfully watches as they’re carted away, then struggles to survive on her own.

Her life in hiding gains a greater purpose when she sees some men trying to bring down the bridge over which a Nazi train rumbles, bringing supplies for their army. They fail, but she sees a chance for her to make a difference. If she loosens the stones one at a time, perhaps she will eventually undermine its stability, and boom! Nazi Bridge is Falling Down!

This semi-animated film is the brainchild of writer-director Yoram Gross, with dialogue by Elizabeth Kata. Mia Farrow, who provides an introduction and conclusion while wandering in the woods that supposedly housed Sarah, seems to suggest that this is a true story, but I can’t find anything elsewhere to corroborate that. So I’m thinking it’s just true in the context of the movie. Which isn’t saying much.

Assuming this didn’t actually happen, Sarah’s own personal resistance is pretty hard to believe. Not that she would attempt it, because it’s a brave, clever plan in theory, but in practice, I just can’t imagine how she could remove enough stones to make a difference while not arousing the suspicions of the soldiers on patrol on top of the bridge. Of course, the point of the movie seems to be that even though she somehow succeeded, the war raged on. So... Don’t try to make a difference, kids, ‘cause there’s really no point.

That’s the message I got from this movie, in the rare event that I even understood what was going on. The film is a bizarre blend of animation and actual footage somewhat akin to Ralph Bakshi’s Lord of the Rings. I found that weird and creepy, and this even more so. It flashes between real footage and animation so often that it’s totally disorienting.

Then there’s the sound quality, which is horrendous. The music meant to be representative of Sarah’s tranquil pre-war family life is so shrill that I muted it during the opening credits. Even worse is the dialogue, which almost all comes down to Sarah, who is voiced by Farrow. The trouble is that she whispers pretty much everything she says, so even with the volume way up, she’s very difficult to understand. Not that her dialogue is anything all that illuminating. Still, I found myself wishing that subtitles were an option.

And then there’s the title, the whole reason I ended up with this movie in the first place. The squirrel is barely in the movie. It does one interesting thing; otherwise, it just occasionally appears so that Sarah has someone to mumble to, though she also talks to rabbits, wolves and other animals.

I found the look of the film quite unattractive; the only portion whose animation I really enjoyed was a sequence involving all of the woodland creatures. I liked it because it reminded me of Bambi. But then it reminded me too much of Bambi, as the forest inexplicably burst into flames. And after what felt like about ten minutes, it finally became clear that it was all a nightmare, and on some level a metaphor for the war. So maybe there was some point to it, but they let it go on way too long.

Sarah and the Squirrel is a movie that I’m sure was made with good intentions. I imagine the thought was that this could introduce children to the horrors of the Holocaust without explicitly showing very much. But I can’t imagine many kids being able to sit through this trippy barrage of sounds and images, and I can’t imagine many adults putting up with it either. (My mom declared that it was like The Swans, a Hans Christian Andersen adaptation I abhor, only worse.  Read my review of that, and you'll see that's really saying something.) It’s a shame because it’s an interesting premise, and I’m sure that there could have been a way to do it well. But whatever that method was, Gross didn’t find it.

Squirrels Are Uninvited Guests in Adam Rubin and Daniel Salmieri's Those Darn Squirrels!

While I’ve always loved squirrels, I really started to take notice of them when I watched a pair of television specials about people building elaborate obstacle courses in an effort to thwart the squirrels attempting to pilfer their birdseed. Well, for the purposes of the show, it was more for the entertainment value of watching them try to figure it out. But many bird lovers try to feed their feathered friends while discouraging marauding squirrels. That’s just what happens in Those Darn Squirrels!, written by Adam Rubin and illustrated by Daniel Salmieri.

Old Man Fookwire is a grouchy loner. He lives on the edge of town, near the forest, and he has few interests. However, he does have one passion: painting birds. While the book seems to be set on the outskirts of a pretty ordinary town, Salmieri and Rubin have created a fantasy element in the names and appearances of the many birds that visit the codger. Whirley birds, bonga birds, baba birds, yaba birds and floogie birds all come to visit, filling his yard with vibrant colors.

In winter, his yard is empty, which saddens the old man. So one year, he decides to put up birdfeeders in an effort to entice the birds into staying. They appreciate his goodies, but so do some squirrels who live nearby. And so Old Man Fookwire begins to plan, and up goes an elaborate obstacle course. But the squirrels are very clever. Will it be enough to keep them out? And will the birds be convinced to stay through the winter?

This is a cute story in which the squirrels - gray squirrels, which abound here in Pennsylvania - are shown to be both mischievous and compassionate. They love dreaming up ways to outsmart the human who would keep them from a tasty treat, but they also feel sorry for this fellow who doesn’t seem to live a very cheerful life. Toward the end of the book, they hatch a plan to thank him for his unintended generosity, and it’s a very creative and considerate gesture. I love the plot and the way in which all parties involved eventually come to a resolution.

What I’m not so crazy about are the watercolor / gouache / colored pencil illustrations, particularly of the old man, who has a strange, almost grotesque look about him. He has long, stick-thin legs and arms and a neck that might feel more at home on a giraffe, along with a bulbous, ruddy nose. He usually looks cross, and his tongue sometimes sticks out of his mouth. I imagine Salmieri made an effort to depict him as unattractively as possible, in which case, he succeeded. The squirrels are cute enough, but their thin faces fail to convey the personality they show in the text. My favorite element of his illustrations is probably the birds, though I also like his way of depicting the blended colors of the atmosphere.

While these aren’t the most beguiling squirrels I’ve ever seen, anyone who has railed against the bushy-tailed intruders in his backyard or wished that they would come visit her birdfeeder can find something to chuckle over in this silly book.

Fear of Bad Dreams Causes Sleepless Night in Scaredy Squirrel at Night

Last week, I found out about Squirrel Appreciation Day. This led me to seek out some books having to do with squirrels. In one case, I managed to find a whole series, written and illustrated by Melanie Watt. Scaredy Squirrel at Night is one of those books.

Scaredy Squirrel is a little paranoid. He’s so terrified of having bad dreams that he decides to avoid sleep altogether, for days on end. But when his horoscope tells him that his dreams are about to come true, more drastic measures are called for. It’s time to gather an arsenal worthy of Home Alone and set up some traps for his inevitable scary visitors. But what will really happen when midnight comes?

Scaredy Squirrel, like many cartoon squirrels, is a tad freakish-looking. He lacks the cuteness of more realistic picture book depictions like Micawber or Earl the Squirrel. Additionally, this book doesn’t read entirely like a traditional story. There’s a definite hyperness to it, and Watt often provides schematics or lists to illustrate Scaredy’s thought processes. These take a little getting used to, but they’re also the funniest element of the book. The story is written in the present tense, which I don’t usually particularly like for stories, but it does increase the sense of immediacy.

I think that lots of children will be able to relate to the fear of having bad dreams, along with the general idea of staying up indefinitely; it seems like a really good idea at first, but as you run out of things to do and become increasingly irritable, it starts to lose its luster. Scaredy Squirrel’s suffers from such side effects as forgetfulness, moodiness, hallucinations and, naturally, drowsiness. But he’s so worried about those dreams that he doesn’t care, and apparently this squirrel has enough reserves of energy to keep going long after most would crash.

What makes this book especially amusing is the fact that his fears include not only ghosts and dragons (and quite unintimidating-looking ones at that) but also fairies and unicorns. Kids with the nighttime jitters may forget some of their worries in the midst of giggles. The climax offers both a startling surprise and a sweet gesture of friendship as it finally shows the neighbors reacting to all of Scaredy Squirrel’s strange behavior. It all adds up to a book that, despite its rather odd-looking characters, is undeniably cute.

Melanie Watt's Scaredy Squirrel Ventures Out of His Tree

There are more squirrels haunting the pages of children’s literature than I realized. One of them is Scaredy Squirrel, the protagonist of Melanie Watt’s cartoonish series, which contains four books to date. The first, Scaredy Squirrel, introduces the nervous fellow and sets up the basic format that his adventures will follow.

On the jacket, Scaredy speaks for himself, telling readers what to expect from the book to come. He concludes with a cautionary note about a certain demographic for which this story is not suitable. Here, it’s green Martians. On the facing page, there is a warning containing instructions that readers must follow before beginning the book. In this case, he advises applying anti-bacterial soap.

For the story itself, Watt keeps to the third person, present tense as she describes Scaredy’s current dilemma. In this book, he’s an extreme recluse. I’m quite the homebody myself, so I can sympathize, but Scaredy Squirrel never leaves his tree. Not ever. There are too many scary things that could be out there. Martians in the air! Sharks in the river! We see a list of the things that worry him the most, and only two - germs and poison ivy - are very plausible. But Scaredy has an emergency kit with supplies to deal with all of these possibilities, should the need ever arise to leave his tree.

Watt’s writing style matches the personality of the squirrel. It has a hyper edge to it. As a story, the book is only somewhat straightforward, as it makes several side trips into lists and diagrams with helpful notes on them. While one of the books in the series specifically has to do with going to sleep, I wouldn’t generally recommend them for bedtime. These would be better for broad daylight, at a time when there’s no need for the reader or read-to to wind down after a long day.

At some point toward the end of the story, Scaredy’s grand plans inevitably backfire. He has to adjust accordingly. When he does so in this book, he learns something very important about himself and the world around him. Unlike in, say, Green Eggs and Ham, it doesn’t result in a dramatic change to his personality - there are, after all, three more books in the series, and probably more to come - but it’s just enough to make him willing to come out of his tree once in a while.

In some ways, I’m not so different from Scaredy Squirrel. For kids who are nervous like me, this book helps to demonstrate that while there are legitimate reasons to fear aspects of “the unknown,” there can also be advantages to exploring unfamiliar territory.

Scaredy Squirrel Becomes Less of a Loner and Makes a Friend

I love squirrels. I’m also a bit of a wimp. So I’ve really been getting a kick out of the Scaredy Squirrel series by Melanie Watt. The main character is a slightly deranged-looking squirrel who lives all alone in a tree, generally keeping to himself and staying inside as much as possible. He’s a recluse and a loner. I can relate. But in Scaredy Squirrel Makes a Friend, he thinks he may be ready to reach out and touch someone. It’s a big step. But it could be the best thing for him.

This book, like the others in the series, comes equipped with warnings, lists and complicated schematics. Watt’s illustrations are cartoonish and silly, while her writing style is simple but chaotic, reflecting her squirrel’s state of mind. She writes in the present tense, so it’s as though Scaredy and the reader are experiencing everything together. The focus here is on his solitary existence, which he likes just fine... mostly. But when he spots what he believes could be a suitable playmate, he can’t resist trying to change his circumstances just a bit.

As always, Scaredy’s specific fears are rather ridiculous. He is afraid of animals with large teeth, which include beavers and bunnies, along with piranhas, walruses and Godzilla. While the first two are unlikely to pose much threat to a squirrel and the last three are almost certain not to be found in his quiet little corner of the woods, these are the animals he has in mind as he comes up with an elaborate plan to introduce himself to the inoffensive creature who has apparently just moved into the neighborhood.

That animal is a goldfish, and frankly I don’t know how, out of the blue, it ended up in the fountain in Scaredy’s front yard. Seems suspect to me. Nonetheless, Scaredy sees great friend potential, since this is an animal that cannot harm him. Of course, it can’t do much of anything else, either. But at least it is safe. I love Scaredy’s list of essential friend-making objects and the explanatory notes indicating why they will come in handy. Most of all, I like Scaredy’s Risk Test, which asks strange animals to use checkmarks to answer a series of questions, including “What do you see?” above a picture of a squirrel, with the possible answers “friend” and “something to bite”.

This is a very funny book. There’s also a practical suggestion or two slipped in among the silliness. On one page, for instance, Scaredy reviews how he will react if approached by a potentially hostile animal, and most of these strategies seem solid for children as well. Also, as he is so preoccupied with teeth in this book, there is a warning at the beginning instructing children to brush their teeth.

Making a new friend can be a nerve-wracking task. But, as Scaredy learns, it needn’t be complicated, and new friends can turn up in unexpected ways. While he is right to show caution in dealing with strangers, Watt, with her upbeat ending, emphasizes the value of friendship and of keeping one’s first impressions in check when judging another’s compatibility.

Scaredy Squirrel's Creativity Lands Him at the Beach

Ten years ago, my family took a trip to Ocean City, Maryland. There were several activities on our itinerary, but one, naturally, was to hit up the beach. This was an exciting prospect. But I’ll admit that I, a longtime resident of a town boasting several freshwater beaches, was nervous about jellyfish. That’s also a big concern for Scaredy in Melanie Watt’s Scaredy Squirrel at the Beach. But that’s not all he’s worried about.

No, as in every installment of Watt’s quirky series, Scaredy has a whole list of animals to avoid. Naturally, as a squirrel in a world of predators, he has reason to be a little nervous. But the creatures and objects that really concern him aren’t what one might expect. Scaredy doesn’t want to go to the beach because he doesn’t want to have to deal with seagulls, pirates, lobsters, sea monsters or coconuts. Scaredy, with all of those big white teeth, comes across as just as startling-looking as any of those he fears.

Still, he knows what he wants to stay away from, so instead of heading for the shore, he creates his own little beach in the front yard. Perfect! Except his personal beach lacks the sound of the ocean, so drastic measures are called for. Scaredy concocts a plan to get to the beach, snag a magnificent noise-making seashell and high-tail it home. But as usual, something comes along to disturb his careful plot and prevent its ideal execution...

Watt’s Scaredy Squirrel books are fairly formulaic. They begin with a practical warning to the reader, not so much for the reading of this book but in general. Here, it’s the well-worn advice to wear sunscreen. Watt then gets into Scaredy’s predicament, illustrating his difficulties with pages full of silly lists and punctuating the story with overly complicated battle plans concocted by Scaredy as he prepares to face one of his great fears.

In this book, Scaredy is proactive. He is not forced to go to the beach; he simply decides that his own beach scene is incomplete. The initiative he shows here makes this the bravest of his adventures. Nonetheless, that doesn’t stop him from panicking when his intricate plan for retrieving the shell is hampered by the presence of humans. This is the only book in the series so far to include people, and it’s fun to see how Scaredy deals with that intrusion.

Scaredy strikes me as especially creative here. Building a beach in your front yard seems like a really fun idea, and he even includes instructions on how to do it. Kids reading might want to give it a shot themselves, though they will probably want to alter the design a bit according to their tastes. Meanwhile, his plans for keeping the unsavory crowds away are a hoot; I’m especially amused by his notion that a camera will act as sea monster repellant.

While Scaredy still has some ridiculously neurotic ideas in this book, he comes out of his shell more here than in any other installment. Scaredy Squirrel at the Beach is a terrific trip for all involved.

Earl the Squirrel Tries to Assert His Independence

Last Thursday was Squirrel Appreciation Day. In celebration of that, I posted several squirrel-related reviews, and it got me wondering what books might be out there involving my favorite bushy-tailed creatures. I went searching the online catalog of my local library system, and I came up with several goodies. One of them was Earl the Squirrel, written by Don Freeman, the author of the much-loved Corduroy, about a dilapidated teddy bear in a department store who longs for a home of his own.

Earl is a young squirrel who lives in a tree with his mother. He has a comfortable existence - too comfy, his mom fears. She demands that he go out and learn how to fend for himself, and that doesn’t mean mooching acorns off of the sweet girl whose house is nearby. But Jill is Earl’s friend, so it’s only natural for him to want to visit her, and when she surprises him with a scarlet scarf that she made herself, he’s sure that he’s found the perfect acorn-collecting tool.

The jacket describes Freeman’s illustration style as “bold, arresting scratchboard art.” It definitely gets one’s attention. The pictures are entirely in black and white, with the exception of the red scarf, which stands out in vibrant contrast to its colorless surroundings. The color red also comes into play in a rather alarming fashion when Earl disturbs a bull reclining under a tree laden with acorns.

I love the illustrations in this story, as Earl is a very cute fellow clearly recognizable as a gray squirrel of the sort that is known to mooch peanuts off of visitors to parks in Pennsylvania and many other states. His almond-shaped eyes are shiny and expressive, accentuating his innocence. Meanwhile, his mother has a sharper look to her. She’s a nagging sort of creature, and it’s easy to imagine the stream of high-pitched chatter emanating from her mouth.

The message of this story seems to be that Earl is more self-sufficient than his mother believes and that she ought to back off and allow him to live as he chooses. Earl, for his part, decides in the end that, as much as he admires Jill’s scarf, he no longer needs it in order to conduct his scavenging duties. That’s all well and good.

What’s not so great is the way he comes upon his hoard - by ignoring the advice of a wise owl and scampering off onto a sleeping bull’s back. This seems foolhardy and inconsiderate. Granted, he never hears the owl’s warning, but that just goes to show he’s not much of a listener. And frankly, he’s not very practical. His plan is evidently to go back to the tree every day and return with one or two acorns. If he kept the scarf, he could transport the stash much more efficiently.

Despite this issue, I find Earl the Squirrel an appealing story, especially for anyone who is nuts about squirrels like I am. Earl could possibly use a knock or two to the noggin, but I’d be glad to have a furry fellow like him hobnobbing with me.

Around Epinions: Feed the Birds - That Is, Stealth Squirrels - on Squirrel Appreciation Day

When I was a tiny tot, one of my very favorite songs was Feed the Birds from Mary Poppins. I still love the song for its gently compassionate message, the beautiful cinematography that accompanies it and, of course, Julie Andrews’ lovely singing voice. But when I hear the phrase “feed the birds” nowadays, my thoughts don’t necessarily stray immediately to British nannies and pigeons at St. Paul’s Cathedral. Thanks to the memorable image on this poster, I’m just as likely to think of furry marauders who, instead of giving to the birds, are stealing from them.

“Feed the Birds” is the message written on the piece of paper held up by the conniving squirrel in this picture that has made its way onto t-shirts, mugs, garden flags and all sorts of accessories for the squirrel lover in need of a good laugh. This particular poster is 19 by 19 inches, a nice large size ideal for hanging in the living room near your favorite squirrel-watching window or in your bedroom for a hearty chuckle when you wake up in the morning.

I’ve always taken the squirrel in question to be a gray squirrel, which is fairly prevalent here in Pennsylvania. Certainly my experience with these squirrels has led me to believe that wily trickery is fairly normal behavior for them. This particular bandit seems to have a slight brownish tint, though, so he could be a fox squirrel or perhaps a red squirrel. It’s hard to tell since so much of him is covered up.

His front paws hold the pleading sign, which, on its own, might be taken as an indication of the squirrel’s generosity toward his fellow creatures. But no, that’s not his intention. Instead, he has garbed himself with a magnificent pair of blue jay wings, and in front of his face, attached with an elastic band, is a large orange beak. Now, I’ve seen blue jays act just as ruthless as squirrels when it comes to devouring food, so I’m not sure if this is the likeliest of birds to elicit sympathy, but they are handsome devils, and if nothing else I can’t think of too many common birds that would create such a striking effect. Cardinal wings would have been similarly arresting, I suppose, but blue and gray go together much more naturally.

The basic premise behind the poster is, of course, that most people welcome songbirds to their feeders but discourage squirrels. That certainly isn’t the case for me; as much as I love birds, I would rather see a squirrel munching on our birdseed than any number of robins, chickadees and woodpeckers. Alas, I rarely see them in our yard. The other notion being espoused here is that squirrels are clever thieves, and to that I can attest, having seen them quarrel over peanuts on many a trip to State College and watched the elaborate lengths to which some of them will go to attain a tasty treat on the Backyard Bandits programs, which show squirrels navigating complex obstacle courses.

So maybe they’re not the most upright citizens of the animal world. I adore squirrels, and I’m taking time out on Squirrel Appreciation Day to shout it from the (virtual) rooftops. If that strikes you as a good use of my time, chances are you can find a place in your home for a piece of “Feed the Birds” paraphernalia.

Celebrate Squirrel Appreciation Day With Mel Boring's Rabbits, Squirrels, and Chipmunks

Did you know that today is Squirrel Appreciation Day? I didn’t, until my mom informed me of that fact a couple of days ago. She knew that I would want to take the opportunity to recognize these furry little marvels. While my ideal way of doing so would be to spend the day at State College feeding peanuts to the insatiable population of gray squirrels there, that will have to wait for another day. Instead, while I keep an eye on the window on the off chance that one of the cuddly rodents will wander into our yard, I’m celebrating by reading and reviewing Rabbits, Squirrels, and Chipmunks, a book in the Young Naturalists Field Guides series, written by Mel Boring and illustrated by Linda Garrow.

Oddly enough, when I put this book on hold at the library, it wasn’t primarily because of the subject matter. I was interested in it first and foremost because I had discovered that Boring is the father of Jeremy Davies, who so magnificently portrays the frazzled quantum physicist Daniel Faraday on LOST. He has written several books for children, most of them having to do with nature; his other titles include Birds, Nests, and Eggs, Caterpillars, Bugs, and Butterflies and Flamingos, Loons, and Pelicans.

As you might guess from the title, this book is divided into three sections. At the beginning of each section is a page that discusses some of the basic characteristics of each group of animals, along with some of the things that differentiate species from each other. After the general introduction, there is one page each on several individual species. Each species page contains the following sections: What It Looks Like, What It Eats and Where to Find It. There’s also an Interesting Facts box on each page.

Finally, before moving onto the next category of animals (or the end of the book) Boring includes a craft or two. There’s a rabbit paperweight, just for the fun of it, but the others are more utilitarian: a rabbit refuge, so rabbits can hide out in your yard; a squirrel nut-ball, to entice squirrels to stop for a snack dangling from a nearby tree; and a chipmunk swimming pool, which encourages chipmunks to take a dip in a shallow basin and possibly squabble over nuts, should you deign to float them in the center as Boring suggests. I’m especially eager to give the nut ball a whirl and see if I get any takers.

Each page is fully illustrated, with colorful depictions of the various species. While photographs might have been nice, the pictures are very effective in drawing attention to certain aspects of each animal’s life. They are good complements to the writing, which is simple but full of useful information, along with a dash of humor here and there.

Rabbits covered include the Eastern Cottontail, Swamp Rabbit, Marsh Rabbit, Brush Rabbit, Pygmy Rabbit, European Rabbit, Black-Tailed Jackrabbit (which is actually a hare), White-Tailed Jackrabbit, Showshoe Hare and Cape Hare. All of these rabbits can be found somewhere in America. The European Rabbit is the most common in the world, and its members live in large groups, digging burrows in the ground. The Pygmy, unsurprisingly, is the smallest. White-Tailed Jackrabbits have two coats - one in summer and one in winter. Swamp Rabbits spend most of their lives swimming, and Cape Hares are escape artists.

The squirrel facts are just as interesting. Boring discusses the Gray Squirrel (which is so common here Pennsylvania), Fox Squirrel, Red Squirrel, Douglas’ Squirrel, Abert’s Squirrel, Kaibab Squirrel, Flying Squirrel, Rock Squirrel, Thirteen-Lined Ground Squirrel and Golden-Mantled Ground Squirrel. Gray Squirrels have to chew constantly to wear down their teeth, which grown six inches a year. Fox Squirrels are the largest tree squirrels. Abert’s Squirrels are able to sit completely still for two hours as they hide from predators. The Kaibab Squirrel is distinguished by its bright white tail, which stands out from the grayish-brown fur that covers the rest of its body. Flying Squirrels don’t actually fly, but they’ve been known to glide as far as 300 feet. And the Thirteen-Lined Ground Squirrel is a very distinctive-looking creature, with long brown stripes punctuated by small beige spots, giving it the appearance of a flag.

Boring explains that chipmunks are all types of ground squirrels, so squirrels really do get the bulk of this book to themselves. He discusses the Eastern Chipmunk (also a common sight where I live), Townsend’s Chipmunk, Merriam’s Chipmunk, Cliff Chipmunk, Uinta Chipmunk, Lodgepole Chipmunk, Yellow-Pine Chipmunk and Least Chipmunk. Most of these species look pretty similar but live in different areas. While most species are brown, Merriam’s Chipmunk is gray. The fur coloration on Townsend’s Chipmunk varies depending on how close they are to the coast. The Eastern Chipmunk’s heart beats 700 times per minute. Cliff Chipmunks swing their tails back and forth instead of up and down, and Uinta Chipmunks love to chow down on cactus seeds, stuffing up to 150 in their mouths at a time. When it comes to hoarding food, however, the champion has to be the Yellow-Pine Chipmunk, which has been known to store tens of thousands of edible items in its burrow.

If you know a child fascinated by these animals - or if you’re intrigued yourself - Boring’s book is loaded with interesting tidbits. Sadly, this book was published one year before Squirrel Appreciation Day was instituted, so there’s no mention of that, but with so many different types of squirrels - and rabbits - to investigate, any day is a good day to express one’s appreciation for these remarkable creatures.

Cuddling With Treehouse the Squirrel on Squirrel Appreciation Day

I have been a squirrel enthusiast for as long as I can remember, and those of you who have been subjected to my efforts to spread awareness of Squirrel Appreciation Day today will know that my fondness for these furry creatures has not dimmed with time. Unfortunately, squirrel-related items aren’t so easy to come by. That’s why I was ecstatic to discover the adorable Treehouse the Squirrel lurking near the cash wrap at the bookstore where I work.

Over the years, I’ve collected a few of Ty’s Beanie Babies. I was never an avid collector, particularly at the height of their popularity, but now that it’s pretty easy to find many of them in the bargain bin or in a heap at a garage sale, I don’t mind plunking down a couple of dollars for an ostrich or a koala, and certainly not for a squirrel as cuddly as this little fellow. From the looks of him, Treehouse is probably a Red Squirrel, though the tag doesn’t specify. What it does say is that he was “born” on July 12, 2007. The tag also reads, “From my house in a birch tree / There’s oh-so-much that you can see / Let me just say, I love my view / It helps me to find acorns, too!”

He’s very realistic-looking, and his fur is among the softest of any Beanie Baby I own. It’s silky and reddish-brown for the most part, though his front is a light beige color. While the bulk of his fur has a speckly quality to it, his tail is all one color, and it’s much thicker and furrier than the rest of him. About three inches of his five-inch-long tail is unattached to the main body, meaning there’s plenty of wiggle room for him to twitch his tail, though you’ll probably have to flick it to get it going. The tail stands straight up in the air but can be briefly bent into a question mark.

Treehouse stands about five inches tall on two paws, with realistic-looking haunches. Meanwhile, his two upper paws clutch an acorn, which is still plush but is made of a different material than the body, making it less soft to the touch. Treehouse has no visible mouth, but he does have a little nose consisting of two black stitches, along with two tiny black plastic eyes and two petite ears.

I’d already had Treehouse for more than a year when I bought Jeremy, my Gray Squirrel finger puppet. Treehouse is more realistic-looking, though Jeremy is certainly a high-quality toy. The two are of comparable size, but Treehouse is about half an inch taller; if they’d been made by the same company, I might take this as evidence that Treehouse is a Fox Squirrel rather than a Red Squirrel, since the latter are smaller than Gray Squirrels, but I’m sure the two companies didn’t confer with one another on their designs.

At any rate, they’re close enough in size that it’s easy to imagine them as buddies, striking out together on a peanut-scavenging expedition. Ty also makes a couple of other squirrels, though I don’t own either of them. Based on the pictures I’ve seen, it looks like Treehouse is the cutest, with Nutty coming in a close second and Nuts trailing them both by a good margin. At the moment, Treehouse is also the cheapest of the three, so this might be a good time to snatch him up.

Are squirrels more than just rats with big, bushy tails to you? If so, you might want to invite Treehouse into your home. And hey, you don’t even have to worry about him depleting your nut supply!

Show a Little Love to the Folkmanis Squirrel Finger Puppet on Squirrel Appreciation Day

Over the summer last year, I spent a few days with my friends Erica and Art, who live near Boston. We’re a bunch of tree-hugging English majors, so naturally, one of our day trips was to Walden, the secluded area where Henry David Thoreau lived in a tiny cabin he built himself. The night before we went, Erica’s sister called, and she warned me, “Don’t get sucked in by the finger puppets in the gift shop!” Of course, the main thing that this accomplished was to cause me to seek out said puppets. I wouldn’t say I got carried away, but when I saw the squirrel finger puppet, I couldn’t resist bringing him home.

Unlike the squirrels in Ty’s Beanie Babies line, the Folkmanis gray squirrel puppet has no assigned name. Come to think of it, I’ve never given him one. While Walden would be a natural choice, or perhaps Henry, I think I’ll call my little scamp Jeremy, in honor of Jeremy Davies, the LOST actor whose father, I recently learned, is a children’s author whose books include the field guide Rabbits, Squirrels, and Chipmunks. I like to imagine Mel Boring taking little Jeremy to the park and encouraging him to commune with the squirrels there; maybe that’s where he got the twitchiness that shows up in so many of his characters...

Jeremy stand about four and a half inches tall. It’s three inches from the front of his feet to the base of his tail, which is about four and a half inches long and very bushy. Jeremy is in a sitting position, with all four paws stretched out in front of him, two like legs, two like arms. Each paw has three pointy black toes, which are flat and made of felt. His stomach is white, but the rest of him is silver; there’s a different consistency and hue to the tail, which is more salt-and-peppery and very soft and fluffy.

The white up the front extends to the mouth, which is set in a sort of ambiguous frown. The stitched-in nose is black and consists of two lines, but the eyes are hard, round plastic balls set against white felt. His tiny ears are white on the inside and are very close to the eyes, on the side of the face. Right at the bottom is the finger hole that extends to the lower part of Jeremy’s head. As is typical for finger puppets, the range of motion is limited; I can’t move his “hands” or “feet” from the inside, though his tail is mobile enough that if I give him a little shake, he’ll respond with a flick of the tail.

This is a very cute little puppet, especially for someone who loves squirrels as much as I do. Since today is Squirrel Appreciation Day, I couldn’t resist bringing him downstairs to enhance the decor, though I’ll have to keep an eye on the cats and especially the dog, lest they mistake him for a chew toy. Whether you want him to star in your puppet show or sit on your shelf, for only six dollars, the Folkmanis squirrel finger puppet is a grand little playmate.