“He was a secret agent and still alive thanks to his exact attention to the detail of his profession.” – Ian Fleming
Ginny Neil
I am sitting in my second story office watching Nature TV. That’s what I call the view from the window in front of my desk. In spring, an oriole demonstrates weaving. In summer, the Lamb Olympics begin, and in fall the wind directs troupes of leaves in wild dances. But, winter brings my favorite show. I call the drama Stealth Squirrel.
The stage is set as soon as the last walnuts finish dropping off the massive tree in front of my house. On the next warm day, I rake them up and pour them into piles in my driveway. We’ll run over them to release the hard nuts from their juicy outer hulls. As the season progresses, the hull pieces will disintegrate and we’ll be left with well-cleaned nuts for cracking—if Stealth Squirrel doesn’t steal them all first.
Ginny Neil
The day after I dump the piles in the driveway, she appears. Stealth Squirrel conducts an anti-dog surveillance drill from the top of the hill and then begins covert operations. Slinking from tussock to tussock, she maintains the best cover she can on a bare slope. I hum the theme song from “Mission Impossible” as she infiltrates the front lines and sprints across enemy territory to walnut headquarters.
All the walnuts look the same to me, but Stealth Squirrel paws and pokes until she finds one she likes, sits up on her back feet, and goes to work. Her wiggly tail belies her state of high alert as she removes the last of the outer hull. Once the nut is spit-spot clean, Stealth Squirrel takes the prize in her teeth and sprints away.
The dogs still haven’t noticed her. She bounds up the hill to the woods and disappears behind a tree. I know those woods are chock full of acorns this year. I crunch over them every time I take a stroll. Walnuts must be the better prize.
Stealth Squirrel will visit the pile for the next month and remove the treasure one treacherous trip at a time. She will most likely cache the nuts under logs, in hollow trees, or anywhere else she deems safe. I will find her tracks on snow-lined logs this winter revealing places she has stopped to dig for supper beneath. She will remember only about 75% of her caches. And that is how forests get planted.
Ginny Neil
Next spring, rain will tease the dormant nuts awake and saplings will wiggle their way to the light. And it’s not only walnuts that will be growing. Other misplaced nuts include acorns, chinquapins, hazel nuts, hickory nuts and chestnuts. Forgotten nuts are the future of the forest.
Since my favorite plants in the world are hardwood trees, I was delighted when I discovered that I could help plant some, too. The Virginia Department of Forestry puts out a call every year for landowners across the state to collect a variety of nuts for their tree nursery in Augusta County. Since nut production in any given location can be sporadic, this ensures an adequate supply for their reforestation efforts.
That is why I spent three days in late October crawling around beneath five oak trees on our church lawn. The pickings are easy there. I also gathered chestnuts from my son’s lawn and some of the walnuts from my driveway. Sorry, Stealth Squirrel!
Although the season is over, if you are interested in helping next year you can find instructions for your own nutty citizen science project on the Virginia Department of Forestry website. (dof.virginia.gov/forest-management-health/seedling-nurseries/acorn-and-nut-collection/)
Meanwhile, I am rooting for you, Stealth Squirrel, as you dodge my dogs with your not-so-subversive approach. While I give you five stars for delightful entertainment and important ecological work, I suspect you would prefer that I just leave a bigger walnut pile for you to pilfer next year.
The story above first appeared in our November / December 2023 issue. For more like it subscribe today or log in with your active BRC+ Membership. Thank you for your support!