My recent research has proved to me that critters in the animal world are subdivided into various tribes, factions, alliances, groups and suborders.

It’s the same as is in the human world. We have our Yankee fans vs. our Red Sox fans, our Ford lovers vs. our Chevy lovers, our hippie clans vs. our survivalist clans and our city folk vs. our country folk.

There is absolute unfettered communication within these groups. Between these groups, however, there is a communication gap as large as the Grand Canyon.

In their own special way, critters communicate. They do it through squeaks and squeals, whistles and hoots and barks and howls. Also, critters communicate by the tried-and-true method instilled by their simian brethren —“monkey see, monkey do.”

Critters copy one another. That means, when bad behavior is initiated by one member of a critter clan, the rest of the critters follow suit. I’m telling you, I have researched this. I have spent hours on end in my laboratory studying this behavior. Please don’t let the fact that my laboratory is my new deck in the backyard and that I have had my favorite beverage in hand during my observations color your judgment of my conclusions.

Take squirrels, for instance. My squirrels are my pets. They are enchanting. They wait for me at the bottom of the steps and gaze at me with innocent, inquisitive looks of anticipation. They can’t wait to enthrall me with their acrobatic antics. The more I watch them, and the more beverages I consume, the more entertaining they become.

Then there is my friend who has squirrels from Hades. His tribe of squirrels is descended from the Mongrel hordes. They are the most destructive, malicious and mischievous creatures to ever descend from lofty boughs.

My friend (who will remain anonymous ... OK, it’s John Hopkins) is beside himself with grief over the damage chewing squirrels have done to his irrigation system. His irrigation and mine are about the same size. While my squirrels peacefully coexist with all sorts of important wires and valves literally on top of the ground, my anonymous friend (John, but don’t tell anybody I told you) has squirrels that will chew through bank vaults to have the pleasure of sharpening their teeth on his underground wiring.

These squirrels communicate among themselves and tell their friends about the unmitigated pleasure of chewing J----’s wires half in two. Thank goodness the communication link between those squirrels to my squirrels has not been established. The most cruel thing J--- could ever do to me would be to catch one of his miscreants and relocate it to my environs. That’s why his name will remain anonymous. I don’t want him to get any ideas.

Chipmunks are the same way. The chipmunks at Christ Church are the most destructive creatures since the Vikings toured England. My chipmunks are sweet and well-behaved. Ever since the local hawk left the steeple perch at Christ Church, the chipmunks there have been on a rampage.

It took me years to figure out just what creature was causing such mass chaos. I set a live trap to see what would venture into the cage. I caught an opossum, which the kindergarten class got a kick out of. Opossums, however, are too meek and mild-mannered to ever become destructive villains. Chipmunks are meek and mild-mannered, too, or so I thought.

The Christ Church chipmunks burrow and gouge, flinging mulch everywhere. They mock neatness. Pristine serenity is anathema to them. They are cohorts of calamity. Thank goodness (again) that the communication link between those villains and my pets has not been established.

Why some hordes of furry creatures are bent on mass destructiveness and others are prime examples of neat and orderly behavior is a topic that will require further research. The answer lies, however, in the communication links these different subgroups have created among themselves.

Deer, raccoons, coyotes and possums also have their clans and tribes, with much interaction within their groups, but little interaction with others out of their geographical ranges. That’s why you get different stories all the time about why certain animals act so differently. Just like with humans, it’s a communication thing.

Have you ever noticed how a simple typographical error makes all the difference between pets and pests?

Different individual humans act differently in different situations. The same is true with tribes and clans of humans. Now, due to my diligent research, we know that pets (or pests, take your pick) act the same way.

It’s just one more conundrum we gardeners have to face on a daily basis. It’s a life-long quest to determine friend or foe. It all boils down to who’s talking to whom, and just exactly what they are saying.

By the way, my favorite beverage is coffee.

If you want to see miscreant creatures in person, join us for the garden tour I described in last week’s column. If you look closely on this page, you will get more information about how to join us.


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