Sometimes, when you write a nature column, you just don’t know when inspiration is going to strike. Ideas for columns have come while walking to work, while working in the yard and once, memorably, when I stepped in something icky.
But this week was different. I wasn’t anywhere near the outdoors and, in fact, was still in my p.j.s when the notion occurred. I’d reached into the freezer for a loaf of bread, when, ta-da! There it was: a little red insulated lunchbox, left behind by a kid in one of our summer camps.
Not that the lunch box itself would become this week’s topic (though it did get me thinking about sandwiches, my favorite food and exactly what I hoped to have for lunch .that day). No, the lunch box merely housed the inspiration.
(Note to budding naturalists: If you’re considering keeping any sort of “inspiration” in a place that others might also visit, be sure to disguise it as something those folks would expect to find in such a place. The little red lunch box is a good example. So is an opaque Tupperware container marked “Jello,” where a very dead, very frozen water snake can sit, undetected, for months. But that’s another story.)
Back to the matter at hand. Stuffed inside the little red lunch box is an Eastern gray squirrel, Sciurus carolinensis. But this is no ordinary gray squirrel. For one thing, it’s dead and stuffed in a lunch sack. But, more notably, this gray squirrel is black. A lovely shade of ebony, tinged here and there with flecks of brown.
Though not unheard of, black squirrels are rather uncommon here in the TriCities. The product of a genetic quirk (like when two brunette parents produce offspring with red hair and freckles) black squirrels are born with an abundance of melanin—the pigment that makes skin and hair dark. They’re not a different subspecies, nor do they change color with the seasons. And, though they may appear smaller—black is slimming, don’t you know—they are exactly the same size as their gray counterparts.
Black squirrels are dark from stem to stern. They lack the white belly fur found on gray squirrels with normal pigmentation, a fact you’d think might cause them some trouble. It’s commonly thought that gray squirrels, which are active during daylight hours, have white bellies to help them better camouflage themselves in trees. To a predator looking up, that white tummy may look like a glare of sunshine pushing through the leaves. But without that protective coloration, black squirrels are more conspicuous, like a Santa in an Easter parade. Predators love that sort of thing, and will take full advantage of such prominent targets.
But some scientists believe that that dark pelage might also afford some advantages, especially during our long, cold winters. Black absorbs heat more readily that lighter colors, so it’s possible that black squirrels may be more tolerant of winter conditions…provided that the sun is out.
Though an unfortunate encounter with a vehicle brought this particular squirrel’s life to an early end, its legacy will live on in the form of a taxidermy mount. Once on display, it will be able to educate many people as to the presence of black squirrels and the role they play in TriCities environs.
(Another note: Lots of rules govern the acquisition and display of Illinois wildlife, both living and dead. “Our” squirrel was collected by a member of our Naturalist Department staff as allowed by our Illinois Department of Natural Resources Scientific Permit. It authorizes, “strictly for scientific, educational or zoological purposes, the taking of Illinois fauna by methods or in quantities otherwise prohibited” by state and federal codes. In other words, “Hey kids—don’t try this at home.)
Look for this squirrel, along with many other dynamic, enlightening displays, when the St. Charles Park District’s new facility, the Hickory Knolls Discovery Center debuts next fall. More details will follow in the coming months—be sure to stay tuned!
Pam Otto is the manager of nature programs and interpretive services for the St. Charles Park District. She can be reached at potto@stcparks.org or 630-513-4346.