Carleton College’s campus is being faced with a pressing epidemic. And no, it’s not the amount of opps created through failed Marriage Pact matches, the rise of dry turkey thighs in LDC or the black mold creeping through Watson’s walls. Rather, seemingly innocent and adorable critters have been plagued by a demon-like contagion. I’m talking about the campus squirrels- they have been brainwashed, and are violently taking over. 

I propose that the revolutionary yet concerning alteration in the actions of the campus squirrels can be blamed on the sweet smell that wafts over from the nearby cereal factory. The sugary pollution has rotted the brains of the acorn bandits, encouraging a switch from cutesy creatures to evil and sinister furry felons. While this may not be too easy to prove, the Carletonian has been tracking the behavioral patterns of squirrels for several weeks, particularly on days when the wind comes east from the cereal factory.

Self-proclaimed “Squirrel Activist” Maddy Reckmeyer ’28 encountered an apparently injured squirrel over parents weekend, to which she rushed to its aid. “Out of nowhere, [it] starts screaming at us…which was beyond disrespectful and almost gave me a heart attack,” said Reckmeyer. The whole “Carls help Carls” mentality crumbles under this foundation of ungrateful and charged animals that scurry around campus. Carleton has always been happy to accept these critters into the community, but that comes with a burden of responsibility. Reckmeyer continues, “I tried to be a mediator in this situation, but the sucker just kept screaming and ‘juking’ us out. The disrespect!” She ends with a warning: “you gotta watch out for the Burton squirrels.”

I swear on my campus tour last year, the squirrels were different. Now, they are out to get us. One fateful, breezy autumn night I was walking alongside the edge of the beautiful Northfield neighborhood on my nightly call with my Dad when all of a sudden I felt a furry creature land between the top of my backpack and my neck. Immediately, I screamed bloody murder as I felt it lunge off of me. “HOLY S*** A F***ING SQUIRREL JUST JUMPED ME.” To which my Dad on the other end replied, “Mads, you cut out, anyways how’s the dining hall food?” I promptly hung up. The squirrel, now at my feet, turned its head to reveal his devil eyes and hiss with his wolverine-like fangs. 

Fellow freshmen also have strong opinions on the takeover of these demon-like squirrels. Class representative and Clennis pro Nicole Yao ’28 says “I really want to catch one with my bare hands.” My journalistic integrity doesn’t allow me to decide if she meant to keep one as a cute pet and elect it as the class of 2028’s mascot or to simply demonstrate her dominance to these glorified rodents, but I personally urge it to be the latter. We must stand our ground. Currently, she is organizing a group of students to run around at night trying to catch the animals.

Willa Bishop ’28 chimed in during our rage circle about squirrels at Burton brunch this weekend with “[they’re] way too comfortable. One tried to run through my legs.” To which Yao ‘28 retorted, “ankle breaker…get megged,” casting doubt on her alliances in this war.

Being jumped by a squirrel was not something I expected to happen in my first trimester here at Carleton.I expected to be bombarded by Ultimate Frisbee recruitment efforts, get frustrated by paper straws at Sayles that disintegrate in two seconds (#environmentallyfriendly), and even a Brat night themed Cave rave that played all the songs on the album before anyone showed up was sort of predictable. But squirrel attacks? Forget it. It’s a step too far.

I might be their biggest target. I feel like his eyes are burning into my soul and attempting to make me promise to give up my first-born. It doesn’t help that I rage as often as possible about the squirrels. At this point they could sue me for defamation (this article is really the icing on the cake). But it’s clear that they have become more aggressive and confident in the past few months and it’s time to find a cure for their cereal-poisoned minds. 

Simply put, I will be putting all my free time and efforts into putting an end to the surge of combative squirrels across our lovely campus. These rogue rodents must be put back into their place, and I will do it one acorn at a time.