One squirrel, two squirrel...

... red squirrel, gray squirrel...

... with apologies to Dr. Seuss, whose wonderful tale's logic may exceed the logic that has been applied to the matter of Britain's squirrel populations.

As we understand them, these are the facts of the matter:

The native squirrel of Britain is the red, Sciurus vulgaris or, in a country where lords have status, the "common squirrel". For their personal amusement in the early 19th century (and I should clarify that, so far as we know, this amusement involved nothing more perverse than the hunt), Britons imported the Yankee gray squirrel, S. carolinensis. Of course, the grays escaped and started amusing themselves — recreationally and procreationally. Which, for a squirrel, is pretty much the same thing. Ever since, they have thoroughly enjoyed themselves out-competing the reds. The scorecard stands at grays: 2,000,000 versus reds: 160,000. It looks grim for the home team. There is a high probability that the reds may vanish from Britain within a decade. But despite the decline of the British population and their immanent departure from that island, reds may still outnumber reds worldwide.

In the early 20th century, Britons hunted the still more numerous reds with abandon. That was an economic good -- simultaneously providing sporting pleasure and bolstering timber "goods" by reducing the number of bark-stripping rodents. In the 1930's, alarmed by the displacement of the home team, the government established a gray squirrel bounty. But that move failed to level the squirrel playing field. Now, the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs sponsors such efforts as S.O.S. (Save Our Squirrels), which administers red squirrel preserves; and the Red Squirrel Protection Partnership. The latter organization doesn't exactly protect red squirrels -- at least not directly. Rather, "It shoots, or traps and then smashes on the head, every gray it can find" (http://www.nytimes.com/2007/10/07/magazine/07squirrels-t.html?pagewanted=all).

The current arguments for saving the reds seem to be heavily invested in Beatrix Potter. From the above-mentioned source, here is an account of the March, 2006 debate in the august House of Lords (no commons amongst the grays there):

Earl Peel rose to call attention to the decline in numbers of the reds and its significance. “To many,” he said, “the red squirrel represents an integral part of our woodland landscape — an iconic creature, immortalized by Beatrix Potter, through the charismatic character of Squirrel Nutkin.” But before turning his attention to Squirrel Nutkin, Earl Peel proposed conducting “a brief health check” of various other Beatrix Potter characters. “Starting with Tabitha Twitchit and Tom Kitten” — both cats — “they are truly on top of their game. . . . Let us now consider the status of Mr. Tod, the fox. On second thoughts, given that he has taken up 700 hours of parliamentary time, it would be somewhat hypocritical of me to prolong the debate.” He went on: “That brings me on seamlessly to the other really controversial character that graced the class of 1912 — and that of course is Tommy Brock,” Potter’s badger. “Hasn’t he done well?”

Peel continued: “Despite suffering from and carrying tuberculosis, he has successfully managed to establish himself in the hearts and minds of the nation as being more important than dairy cows or, indeed, farmers’ livelihoods, and like Mr. Tod, has managed to secure his very own legislation.”

Peel concluded his health check: “Squirrel Nutkin must look back on his alma mater and think to himself, ‘How could it have all gone so wretchedly wrong for me?’ ”

[Lord Rupert] Redesdale rose to congratulate Peel. [Lord Redesdale is the founder and leader of the concussing Red Squirrel Protection Partnership.] “My Lords,” he said, “I thank the noble earl, Lord Peel, for initiating the debate and commend him for his bravery. It takes a brave man to initiate a debate that had Radio 4 saying this morning that he would be calling for an immediate cull of gray squirrels. I hate to say that his postbag will immediately be filled with letters from irate people who love gray squirrels.”

He continued: “One of the problems in the public perception is that gray squirrels are the only squirrels they see. They see them in parks and gardens, and they are sociable and friendly animals. Yesterday, I walked through St. James’s Park and watched tourists feeding gray squirrels crisps by hand. In Regent’s Park, a gray squirrel came up to my son and me and actually climbed up my leg to look in my pocket.”

Lord Hoyle soon cut off Redesdale: “My Lords, perhaps they are friendlier in Regent’s Park than they are in St. James’s Park. One that ran up my leg bit me.”

Redesdale resumed: “Efforts involving buffer zones have been undertaken to halt the advance of the gray squirrel. It is unfortunate that in Northumberland, when there was talk of a cull of gray squirrels, there was such public outcry that much of that work had to be deferred.”

Lady Saltoun of Abernethy, the 21st to hold that title in Scotland, then spoke to point out the inherent superiority of the red over the gray squirrel: “Red squirrels,” she said, “are rather like quiet, well-behaved people who do not make a nuisance or an exhibition of themselves or commit crimes and so do not get themselves into the papers in the vulgar way gray squirrels do.” She continued: “Red squirrels do not strip bark from trees; damage arable crops, market gardens and garden plants; dig up bulb and corms from recently sown seed; eat birds’ eggs; or eat telephone wires and electricity cables, as gray squirrels do.” Lady Saltoun suggested some research be done on whether gray squirrels tasted good. She foresaw a fight at the dinner table: “I have a nasty feeling that . . . children in particular would say, ‘Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly eat that,’ just as they say they cannot eat dear little bunny rabbits. But this is worth having a look at.”

Lord Inglewood concluded with a call to action. “We have been far too intellectual about this and tried to be far too clever,” he said. The matter was simple: “There has to be at least some killing of gray squirrels.” To Inglewood’s mind, British governments over the years, regardless of political persuasion, were guilty of “squeamishness.” And “as far as the red squirrel is concerned,” he went on, “squeamishness spells nemesis for this lovely and iconic creature. Those involved with trying to preserve the red squirrel in this country have adopted a policy of appeasement towards the grays. The red squirrels have had Chamberlains and not Churchills, but it is Churchills that they need.” Inglewood finished with a dark prediction: “Unless something radical and imaginative is done . . . Squirrel Nutkin and his friends and relations are going to be toast.

In its way, this is an examplar of how humans manage and justify their management of other species. The elements are familiar from many similar stories. Included are a familiar economic justification for (initially) casually decimating the natives, the intentional import of an alien, the alien's subsequent rise to ascendancy, and now the sentimental justification for trying to decimate the aliens on the grounds that they are inexorably displacing the natives -- not worldwide, but in one geographical and cultural zone. In this case at least, there is no issue of alien individuals suffering as the result their natural fecundity. Nor is there any question of extinction. The gray is simply Sciurus non grata in the sceptred isle.

Ethical considerations are conspicuously absent -- unless morals are defined by economics and shifting sentiments. With what confidence can we say that Britons were at one time morally justified in culling red squirrels for economic benefit? And now that the reds are the sentimental favorite amongst Britons, with what confidence can we say that they are morally justified in culling their competition? Could they have been justified in the first instance, but not the second? Or is, perhaps, the reverse true? What is, after all, the moral weight of these kinds of economic and sentimental and cultural reasons?

Should this give us pause in viewing ourselves as the rightful or even wrongful but competent manager of other species?