Culture Shock #24: Germans are delighted by squirrels

 "Squirrel" is a notoriously difficult word to pronounce in German. 

Here, give it a shot.

Eichhörnchen. 

Oo, not quite. Try again.

Eichhörnchen.

Really try to sound it out. 

Eich. hörn. chen.

Okay, you know what, here. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yqEmVe1ywwY&ab_channel=Artikel-Andy

Alternatively, swing by my humble German town. You will undoubtedly get enough daily exposure to this word that you can forgoe Andy's YouTube videos altogether (No offense Andy, you are doing very important work good sir. I hope this blog post boosts your YouTube ratings). 

The first time I saw a German point to a squirrel and exclaim, "Eichhörnchen!", it was a boy in my fourth grade class during recess. I found his reaction to the squirrel adorable and savored the childish joy of the swarm of kiddos who scurried over to observe the furry creature dart up a tree. Except, it wasn't just kiddos who scurried. In pure disbelief, I watched the fully-grown adult colleagues standing on either side of me head towards the squirrel with a level of purpose, drive, and motivation I would only call upon for a fat slice of chocolate cake or a lesbian. I truly could not believe what I was bearing witness to. Grown adult teachers! On their recess break! Running towards the children they just gained respite from! And for what? A squirrel??

At first, the only way I could make sense of this encounter was by pinning it on Waldorf pedagogy. Waldorf schools value a deep connection with nature and seasons, so it would make sense that Waldorf communities would be excited by furry woodland creatures, however mundane they might be...right? This theory was soon disproven by multiple subsequent encounters with Germans and squirrels. I have since watched Germans of all ages point to trees, sidewalks, rooves, and balconies, gesticulating gleefully as they shout. "Eichhörnchen! Eichhörnchen! Eichhörnchen!". Once I saw a crowd of Germans so large I thought there was a riveting street performance going on. NOPE. JUST A SQUIRREL. (Update: I read this blog post aloud to a German friend of mine, and at this point in the post, they stopped me to present a clarifying question. "Was it one squirrel or two?" I admitted I didn't remember, but their question adds a riveting layer to this mysterious love affair between Germans and squirrels. What, exactly, is the functional relationship between Number of Squirrels Currently Present and German Joy? Is it a linear one? Exponential? Who can help me plot this?)

Just to be completely clear, German squirrels are not purple and sparkly. They do not fly. They are not rare. They are not abnormally large or abnormally small. They cannot talk. They cannot swim. They eat nuts and seeds and dry crusts of bread. They look like and behave just like U.S. American squirrels (with the obvious exception of the Squirrels of Ann Arbor, which are so magnificently fat, they have inspired entire Facebook groups, newspaper articles, and clubs. God I can't imagine how a German would react to an Ann Arbor squirrel, now that I think about it. One Ann Arbor squirrel probably inspires the same amount of joy in your average German as three normal squirrels, though don't quote me on that. It's a rough science.)

I'm at the inevitable point where I'm starting to think...am I the problem? Why am I not excited when I see a squirrel, like the good people of Germany? I feel like a downright cynic, watching a group of excited people make towards a squirrel while I stay behind, arms folded, unimpressed. Did something in my childhood, in my U.S. American upbringing, rob me of my ability to experience delight at the promise of a squirrel? Or, on the flipside, is there something distinct about German culture that breeds such captivation at such small furry nutty things? I wouldn't mind if I assimilated into German culture enough to jubilantly cry out "Eichhörnchen!" at the sight of one. 

At the very least, I now know how to instantly summon a crowd of excited Germans. I'll try not to abuse this newfound power.