Yet researchers who study gray squirrels argue that their subject is far more compelling than most people realize, and that behind the squirrel’s success lies a phenomenal elasticity of body, brain and behavior. Squirrels can leap a span 10 times the length of their body, roughly double what the best human long jumper can manage. They can rotate their ankles 180 degrees, and so keep a grip while climbing no matter which way they’re facing. Squirrels can learn by watching others — cross-phyletically, if need be. In their book “Squirrels: The Animal Answer Guide,” Richard W. Thorington Jr. and Katie Ferrell of the Smithsonian Institution described the safe-pedestrian approach of a gray squirrel eager to traverse a busy avenue near the White House. The squirrel waited on the grass near a crosswalk until people began to cross the street, said the authors, “and then it crossed the street behind them.”

In the acuity of their visual system, the sensitivity and deftness with which they can manipulate objects, their sociability, chattiness and willingness to deceive, squirrels turn out to be surprisingly similar to primates. They nest communally as multigenerational, matrilineal clans, and at the end of a hard day’s forage, they greet each other with a mutual nuzzling of cheek and lip glands that looks decidedly like a kiss. Dr. Koprowski said that when he was growing up in Cleveland, squirrels were the only wild mammals to which he was exposed. “When I got to college, I thought I’d study polar bears or mountain lions,” he said. “Luckily I ended up doing my master’s and Ph.D. on squirrels instead.”

– Natalie Angier, New York Times.

My wife and I were talking about this not too long ago: I have lived among squirrels my entire life, and yet I have no idea where they sleep. Turns out they “nest communally as multigenerational, matrilineal clans,” which is impressive and ominous but doesn’t really clarify where they’re actually sleeping. Holes in trees? If so, how do they hollow them out to fit their whole squirrel clan in there? Does that kill the tree?

The Times article is pretty fascinating. Turns out squirrels also trick each other when hiding their nuts. They bury them and rebury them to avoid nut theft, because squirrels are super paranoid.

It’s a neat trick squirrels have pulled. How many other rodents live among us that we don’t actively try to destroy? I mean, sure, sometimes some squirrels will overstep their bounds and find a way to burrow in your attic crawlspace and then, you know, chain of animal command and all. Humans are unmistakably the king of the suburbs.

But no one ever puts down squirrel poison or squirrel traps like they do for rats or mice. Really, there’s no other non-domesticated mammal as large and ubiquitous that we so willingly share a habitat with. We fear raccoons and possums disgust us, but squirrels bear no similar stigma. And why? Is it just because squirrels are better looking than rats? Less likely to spread the plague? Less invasive?

And though we don’t seek to rid our yards of woodchucks or chipmunks or any other rodent that doesn’t look to invade our homes or ravage our gardens, they’re not nearly as present and prevalent as the squirrel. So I recommend being a little more suspicious of squirrels. Those little bastards are up to something.