Squirrels

I recently saw a news story about the reappearance of red squirrels in Aberdeen. Decades of effort have finally banished grey squirrels from the city, creating space for the reds to return. Grey squirrels were originally introduced to Britain to ornament Victorian stately gardens; their arrival has been deadly to the native red squirrel. Grey squirrels outcompete reds for resources and carry the squirrelpox virus, to which the red squirrels lack immunity. Red squirrels are now mostly gone from mainland England and Wales, and growing up in South West England in the 2000s I didn’t see my first until I moved to Scotland. Even here, grey squirrels dominate the central belt. A recent sighting of a red squirrel in Bearsden was reported as the first in the Glasgow area for decades. While returning red squirrels to Aberdeen was an incredibly difficult task, a similar attempt down here would take an even more involved campaign of trapping and monitoring, all to reverse an alien introduction done on a whim.

Where I live, grey squirrels dominate. I see them out the windows of my flat, happily clambering over trees, buildings and fences. They’re probably the animals I see most in my daily life. I know they’re an invasive species, and their presence in the UK both harms native species and damages young trees, but nonetheless I find them adorable. I don’t know if people in older generations who remember red squirrels disappearing would feel more conflicted, but I think for most people my age grey squirrels are just squirrels, and we’d be sad to see them go. When I see grey squirrels I feel there is some life to the urban landscape, that they are a part of the landscape, not some alien addition. On an emotional level, I feel we are connected.

Here is the problem with the charismatic invasive, defeating the efforts of ecologists everywhere with their good looks and charm. Wild horses in Australia and the US evade any attempt at population control. In the UK deer herds are far larger than is healthy for them or the wider ecosystem, yet attempts to reduce their numbers draws such opposition it has given name to the ‘Bambi Effect’ (the phenomenon of the public opposing the harming of ‘cute’ animals over any others). Even attempts to cull the ever-multiplying descendants of Pablo Escobar’s escaped hippos are blocked by public outrage.

This effect is not unique to invasive species - see the growing culture war in continental Europe over wolf numbers - but it is often these species that ecologists seek to remove. Without a strong widespread consciousness of the damage invasive species can do, it’s hard to really get people to care about it at all. It seems this mainly exists in places like New Zealand where introductions are recent and can be understood as a component of wider colonial wrongs. In the UK, one of the most nature-depleted places on the planet, consciousness is strongest against invasives which damage property (bamboo, knotweed) or scary/ugly (often exotic invertebrates e.g. Asian hornets). Otherwise, it’s hard to convince them to stop planting rhododendrons, let alone endorse more acute human violence to living things.

When faced with these objections, proponents of eradicating invasive species might respond that human action has created problems, and so corresponding action is required to put things right. I feel this argument seems to cut through the most when you can point to a predator missing from the environment that human action needs to replicate - e.g. deer control in a landscape without wolves or lynx. For squirrels, there is evidence that reintroducing pine martens helps red squirrels as they’re better at avoiding predation than greys. It’s interesting that many people who oppose humans culling grey squirrels would likely view pine martens’ squirrel hunting as a point in favour of reintroduction. 

I think everyone would prefer to see nature ‘manage itself’, but it seems contrary that someone might be against a squirrel being harmed unless a pine marten did the job. Personally, with my emotions in the driving seat, I empathise with the squeamishness. Is it because it feels more natural? Fairer on the squirrel, maybe? Grey squirrels are vulnerable because they evolved without pine martens, so it almost feels like the restored ecosystem fighting against the invasive. In the city, it’s hard to escape the feeling that the nature is so broken that any sign of life clinging on is an unambiguous improvement to my world and should be protected, even if it ‘shouldn’t’ be there.