Statement of Elan [REDACTED] regarding an encounter with...squirrels

Statement Begins

I went for a walk in the woods today. It's not something I usually do on a regular basis, but I do enjoy getting outdoors once in a while, and working in the backroom of a library, I don't move around much, so I needed the exercise. It's my day off, so I didn't want to just sit around in my house and I couldn't think of anything better to do. It's January, and it was about...5 pm, I think, so there wasn't much daylight left. 

There are two parks, each about 10-15 minutes away from my house. I'd planned on going to the closer one but missed my turn and opted for the other. As I drove there, it began to rain softly. The temperature hung around the line where water switches between liquid and solid, so the raindrops looked like they were trying to be snow but couldn't quite get there. As a result, the drive was gloomy and dismal despite the golden-brown fields trying to cheer up the landscape. 

As I neared the park, the sky seemed to grow a darker bluish gray, and the trees reached over the road as though attempting to block the light. I pulled into the drive and noted four other vehicles in the parking lot. One was a white pickup-truck, another a black pickup, a black car, and a small white sedan with temporary plates. As I parked my own vehicle, the black car pulled out, and a male and a female in their twenties walked to the white truck. The man wore athletic shorts despite the cold. The black truck was empty, but a figure in an orange safety vest occupied the driver seat of the white car. It was idling, and he appeared to be just sitting there. 

Public parks and parking lots are popular places for smoking, couples wishing to make out somewhere where no family will see them, drug deals, and probably kidnapping. My mother worked at a police station as I was growing up, so this was always on my mind and I was uneasy to notice that I had left my stun gun at home. I was unwilling to allow that to stop me, so I grabbed my walking stick, slipped my phone into my pocket, and headed toward the trail. 

The concrete felt hard and unnaturally solid beneath my boots, and I looked forward to the path turning to dirt. In the grass next to the paved path i saw a mass of organic matter. On closer inspection, it appeared to be a clump of burrs about the size of a small child's shoe. I'd never seen such a thing in all my outdoor experience, but nature is nature, so I continued on my way. 

Typically I do more hiking in the winter than the summer. I enjoy the heightened definition of the tree branches against the cloud-blanketed sky. It's quieter, darker, and less crowded; it feels as though the woods allow you into a part of its life that it does not show to everyone. Perhaps there is a reason for that.

This time, the trees did not seem welcoming. It felt as though I were...intruding is not the word. It was like arriving at a party too early and the hosts were not quite ready for their guests to be there. There was no wind, but my eyes wanted me to see the trees moving, the branches quivering in agitation, and I noticed that the ends of a certain branch were curved like long, gnarled fingers reaching toward the path...I continued, not allowing myself to dwell on it. 

I reached the trail and the curved wooden bridge that lead to it. The creek it crossed was higher than I'd ever seen it, and the water was a somewhat milky olive green. It was mildly unsettling, but some rivers were green, nothing unusual about that. I began crossing the bridge when my boot slipped. Now I know what you might be thinking. Women's boots don't always have the best traction; they're designed for fashion, not function. But I don't wear women's boots for practical things; I always shop the men's for that. And these are slip-resistant. It was almost as if the bridge didn't want me crossing it. But that wasn't going to convince me out of my hike, so I kept going, walking in that penguin-step way people who live anywhere with a good deal of ice learn to use so they can walk without falling. 

Once I actually got into the woods, it wasn't so bad, just dismal and subdued. Moss on rotting, fallen trees seemed to glow, but that's not unusual in the hour before dark. There were trees, however, who hadn't lost their leaves. The leaves were dead for sure, but they were thin and bleached to a dark golden beige and reminded me of dryads, tree-spirits from various mythologies. There were several throughout the woods, though more densely near the trail, and I could not help but feel as though I were interrupting a gathering and they were waiting for me to leave so they could proceed. I continued, taking pictures for my gaming friends and uploading them to discord as one of them is from field-covered England and loves a good tree. 

As it kept getting darker, though, the pictures were of increasingly poorer quality. Whenever I tried photographing mossy logs, it came out eerie and green, like footage from a ghost-hunting tv show filmed through a night-vision lens. Weird, but it was probably just my driver's license in the back of my phone case getting in the way of the flash. I put my phone away and concentrated on getting back before it got completely dark. My phone has a flashlight, but I prefer not to use it. I don't know why. 

I reached a familiar bend in the path and grew relieved; it looked like I'd make it to my car by nightfall. And then I heard it. A strange sound. It was a...chattering, of sorts, like a squirrel. But it was different than all the other squirrels I'd heard before. And believe me, I've heard plenty. I don't know what you've heard about college campus squirrels, but I can tell you it's all true. When I was in college I met a LOT of squirrels. But these weren't your average squirrels. These were different. I know squirrels are supposed to be territorial, but they took it to a whole new level. Any time I lingered outside for longer than seven minutes, it would start. I would be reading a journal article or book chapter for class and then hear chattering. Not the typical chattering of students near building entryways but a squirrel in the nearest tree. I would ignore it for a few minutes and get back to my reading, but the chattering would only get louder. I would look up, and there, in the nearest tree, would be a squirrel, glaring at me with its beady little eyes. The chattering would grow louder, faster, angrier, until I gave up and went inside. 

This happened on several occasions: on benches, in the grass, at the base of different trees... Even right next to a building. On the South wall of my old dorm building, there was a section of brick in the shape of a door that was lighter than the rest of the building. In front of it was a small platform like a stair, and on either side of the platform was a large evergreen bush. I was sitting there, reading an article, when, as usual, the chattering began. I looked up into the branches of the nearest tree, about ten or fifteen feet in front of me but saw no squirrel. I went back to reading, but the chattering continued and grew in volume and ire. I looked around and still saw nothing. Finally, I looked straight up at the top of the building, and there I saw it. A red squirrel leaning over the edge of the roof and staring at me, eyes full of rage. It waved its arms at me and ran back and forth along the building, pausing every few seconds to gesture and glare. Alarmed and not a little put out, I put my papers away and stood, feeling absurdly like a giant intruding on the grounds of some squirrel castle. I began walking toward the library and away from the squirrel, but still the chattering followed, and it wasn't until I was several yards clear of any trees that I was finally left to read in peace.

Anyway, as I said, this chattering in the woods was different. It was crisper, cleaner, more focused and differently accented. I looked to the left, and there was a tree. Naturally, it was the woods, so there were trees but this tree had three trunks, all splitting apart at the bottom, widening toward the sky and looking like a triangular prism or a funnel. It was on the trunk nearest me that i saw it. The squirrel. Facing my direction and staring at me intently as it yelled, "CHA cha-cha-cha-cha," over and over and over again. I stood there and watched it a few moments and expected it to run up and down the trunk like they usually do. But it didn't. I clicked back at it, cleaving my tongue to the top of my mouth, sucking air through my teeth, and then rapidly moving one side of my tongue down to break the vacuum. The squirrel stopped, as though listening. After a few seconds of silence, I clicked again, and this time it responded with the same phrase. I clicked a third time, and the squirrel stopped, listened, and chattered again. I kept walking.

By now it was pretty dark, but I could still see. The drizzling rain had turned to snow, and the patter of its impact on the leaf-strewn ground seemed far louder than I thought it should. My fingers ached with the cold and humidity, and I just wanted to get back to my car and away from the scary squirrel.  As I got further from the squirrel tree, I noticed it was getting foggy. Was it getting foggy, or was it just my glasses fogging up? I moved my glasses down the bridge of my nose and discovered it was both. The fog with the trees was pretty enough, so I tried getting a photo for my friends. All that came through was streaks of white with ominous, gangly trees in the background. It was really getting darker now and I considered giving in and using my phone flashlight when it vibrated in my hand, but wasn't a new message; my phone had randomly turned off. It's an old phone and does this sometimes, so I held down the power button and expected the screen to glow again but nothing happened. It was dead. It had been at 51% but now was dead. At this point I was done, completely done, as we say. I slipped my phone into my pocket, gripped my walking stick firmly, and continued as fast as I could. 

But then I heard it again. 

"CHA cha-cha-cha-cha!"

Was the damn squirrel following me?

I looked around and didn't see any squirrels, but it was dark, so no surprise. I kept walking but heard it again, closer. Was it actually following me? I walked faster, not knowing what to do in the case of a squirrel attack, but I was glad to be wearing a hat for what little protection it would offer. 
"CHA cha-cha-cha-cha!"

This time it came from not directly behind me but behind and a little left.

"CHA cha-cha-cha-cha!"

Another squirrel, this one almost ahead of me, again on my left. 

Were they chasing me out of the woods? Were they herding me? I could swear to you, it sounded as if a guard of squirrels were shouting updates on my position to each other, readying for an attack. 

I got out of there as fast as I could without being stupid. I finally reached the edge of the woods and only had the bridge and paved path back to my car. I stepped on the span of wood planks over the swirling creek and my boot once again slipped, but I didn't fall. No way was I letting myself fall. I passed under the tree branches and felt disturbed as I had before at their gnarled hand appearance and once again quickened my pace until I reached the parking lot. 

I expected all of the cars to be gone except mine, and they were. All except the white one with temporary tags. As I stared to see if the orange-vested man was still in the driver's seat, a light flashed on from inside the car and illuminated his mustached face. I flung open my door, jammed my stick inside, and locked the door behind me. Not even pausing to plug my phone into the charger, I put my car into gear and drove away. 

Statement ends.

I don't know that there is much to investigate here, as squirrels are generally territorial and have been known to exhibit aggressive behaviour toward those invading their space. And as for creepy photographs and the phone suddenly shutting off, that can easily be explained by old computer technology. There will be no follow-up at this time.

End recording.