Dear Pelicans,
Squeak squeak, squeak squeak squeak.
*insert cuteness*

Ha! You’re wrong, at least about the brainless squeaking part. If I am to humbly admit, we are pretty cute, and from the conversations I’ve overheard, I’m overjoyed that so many of you find our cold-weather attire of, erm, a few extra ounces so charming. I will admit that we can appear quite startling when we leap out of the cafeteria.
What’s that? They’re called garbage bins? Well, I guess the adage, “One man’s junk is a squirrel’s treasure,” is really true.
Anyways, on behalf of everyone in the Notably Ubiquitous and Tenacious Squirrel Society (NUTSS), I, Sciurus Bushington, would like to apologize to the Loomis Chaffee community. We may look quite unassuming as we scurry across campus, but we have been instrumental to the growth of not only Loomis Chaffee, but also North American society as a whole.
I’ll let you in on the history of NUTSS. We have inhabited this continent for millions of years, and food has always been plentiful, and life was good. Awesome, in fact. You thought the Egyptians’ “Feast of Drunkenness” was crazy enough? Try a NUTSS party. That’s all I can say, since what happens in the forests stays in the forests.
However, in the 1800s, we began a great pilgrimage to follow The Great Scent, and it led us to Franklin Square in Philadelphia. There, we discovered the warm, buttery, and salty soft pretzel and gorged ourselves until we caused a minor shortage in the city, so we moved onwards. We credit The Great Scent and bored wealthy humans for our presence in the city. NUTSS has never figured out how humans came to the conclusion that we “offered an opportunity to teach young boys the value of compassion and kindness in the public sphere, just as domestic pets did in the home.”
From Philadelphia, we followed The Great Scent Part II to Windsor, Connecticut, only to discover the source was a child’s unwashed sock. Although Windsor did not have the same abundance of soft pretzels that Philadelphia did, some of us enjoyed the quieter life of a smaller town, and we elected to stay here.
Those who craved the friendly feeders and commotion of the city followed The Great Scent Part III (it turned out to be popcorn), The Great Scent Part IV (roasted peanuts), and The Great Scent Part V (a toupée) to various cities, such as Chicago, Boston, and New York City (if you can’t tell, we have a lot of Great Scents).
Our adorable cheeks, bushy tails, and begging manner appealed to the humans’ desire to feel superior, and so we drew droves of visitors to these cities. The cities thanked us for their increased tourism revenue by offering city NUTSS members even more food.
As for our contribution to Loomis Chaffee? It is not documented in the humans’ history books, but one day, as John Mason Loomis looked out to the Atlantic Sea aboard his merchant vessel, he spotted one of us. I believe it was my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother, Acornia Bushington, who was the brave one out on the sea as she loved to test the squirrel limit. However, I think this instance was accidental since she resided in a tree that had been downed in a great storm, so she may have been washed out to sea.
Nonetheless, Loomis was baffled at the sight of her, and, from that day on, he developed a quiet obsession with us. He kept secret notebooks where he filled pages full of sketches, stories, and thoughts about squirrels. He attempted to knit squirrel-patterned sweaters (he failed). Even during the Civil War, he kept a log of how many squirrels he saw. He was not a tough nut to crack in terms of getting him to love us.
When he visited Windsor, he noted how abundant we were, and whispered to his four older siblings that if they ever wished to charter a school together, they should do it right here in Windsor.
Well, that is all the time I have today since winter is rapidly approaching, and I must don my cold weather attire.
Cashew next time!

– Sciurus Bushington