You are a small mammal. One day at dawn you are out foraging and are just crossing a solid rock path to get to the goodies when a large THING approaches you. This THING stays on the path as it roars its way towards you, evidently intent on your certain doom. You stay in front of it; it runs you over. You are dead. Why?
1)You were an armadillo. Your heavy plated hide was nigh impenetrable to any predator that might attack. Tough luck you faced down a bus, but it made sense from your standpoint.
2)You were a skunk. Your chemical weapons system was the best this side of the former Soviet Union. Only the most brainless predator would challenge it. Tough luck you faced down a bus, but it made sense from your standpoint.
3)You were a squirrel. You were a tasty snack as far as most any meat-eater on Earth cares. Your major defenses consist of going down by burrowing or going up by climbing. It’s a good thing you died, because your friends would laugh at you.
Why do squirrels do this? I’ve never hit one, but it sure wasn’t for lack of trying on their parts. They’re definitely not trying to fight. What kind of flight response often leads you directly into your enemy’s path? Is there some strange, sideways-scuttling squirrel-eater infesting the land that I don’t know about? Of course squirrels are dumb about cars, just like skunks and dillos and all other creatures, but what makes them suicidal?
That thread doesn’t really seem to provide a definitive answer, except to observe that it might be an “escape maneuver”. WAG:
squirrels evolved to inhabit wooded areas. “run a few feet, and if you don’t find something to climb, run another direction, there’s bound to be a tree over there” might normally work well for them.
I think it’s an escape maneuver, too, but has nothing to do with trees as yabob suggested.
I’ve seen the little guys close up on my bike as I ride through the park. (Yes, they are just as suicidal regarding 2-wheeled Bianchis as they are with Greyhound buses.) This is their usual M.O. if they’re sitting on or near the edge of the road within, say, 2 feet to either side of the path of the approaching bike wheel: They’ll sit still until the wheel is about 3 to 6 feet away, then juke a step or two away from the approaching wheel, then sharply reverse and scamper into the path of the bike, resulting in a squirrel pizza or a very near miss.
My theory is that the little rodents’ insticts are merely taking a page out of every NFL playbook. His start-this-way-then-go-that-way move is his version of a wide reciever’s cut, or fake. Many predators probably fall for it too. The fact that bikes and cars don’t “bite” is just one of the many unfortunate tricks that man has pulled on Mother Nature over the ages.
I don’t know about squirrels, but I’ve had two deer commit suicide on one of my cars and others have tried. I didn’t expect it the first time it happened, so I didn’t slow enough. As for the other time, the deer ran out of tall grass. Both times happened in the fall. Maybe I should have kept a deer tag in the car.
Just a tangent, but the reason the armadillo got hit by the bus was probably because it jumped into it. When startled, these guys are known to jump straight up about three feet into the air with all four legs pointing down and outwards. This probably works with coyotes and such, but it doesn’t work too well when a bus is passing overhead.
Here’s what I’ve heard from entirely unreliable sources:
These animals lack the mental capacity to fathom the concept of “fast moving car”. To explain further, lets go to the tape:
(scene: back country highway meandering through the forest)
Enter stage right, DEER.
Enter stage left, JEEP WRANGLER, traveling close to the speed of sound.
JEEP: Boy. Isn’t it a lovely day?
DEER: Gee whiz. What a lovely day?
JEEP: Oh, crikey! A deer!
(JEEP begins evasive manuevers)
DEER: Hmmm. It looks as if there is an animal approaching at roughly the speed of sound, but my primitive brain knows that no creature could possibly travel at such a velocity. Therefore, it must not exist. I’ll stay right here in the middle of the road where I am safe.
(JEEP’s evasive manuevers aren’t quite evasive enough, and a collision of a very non-cushiony variety ensues.)
I, too, ride a bicycle and have noticed their seemingly erratic behavior. I go with the cut and run reversal theory. I also think that they know not what a car is. How could they? They evolved to living high up in trees, where predators are at a premium. On the ground foraging they are safer still.
When I am on my bike, I make a loud PSST! sound when I get close. They always run away from the direction of the sound. In this case, the road.
But this brings me to my superintelligent squirrel theory:
Evolution will continue to work on the squirrel population. As the stupider squirrels are squished out, there will be fewer of them to breed, and this will ensure that the smarter squirrels will flourish. Eventually, after many, many eons there will be two buttons to press at the crosswalk. One will be about 4-feet off the ground for us to press when we want to cross, and the other will be 4 inches off the ground for the super-intelligent squirrels to press when they want to cross the road.
So when I go PSST! at the squirrels, I am tampering with evolution’s natural destiny for the squirrel populace.
The “NFL-like evasive manuever” theory sounds good, too. The two “reasons” don’t really have to be mutually exclusive. I just note that threatened squirrels zip up any handy tree if there is one.
Another side topict:
Or an owl. Large owls prey on skunks (and practically anything else small enough for them to attack). One of many links suggesting this:
I’m not sure whether this is because the owl takes them out too fast for the skunk to react, or because the owl is simply immune to the effects of skunk-spray. I’ve heard the latter, but I’m not sure. Many birds of prey have no sense of smell, but there’s also the irritant effects of getting sprayed.
No seriously, all the explanations sound good. I always figured it was just panic with squirrels but now I’m considering the other possibilities. I’ve only hit one in my lifetime; he pulled off the left-right-left-thud manuever, despite my slowing from 40 mph to 20 mph to give him extra time. I felt pretty bad at the time, but now I have a deep hatred for squirrels and would gladly aid in their extermination.