They’re always watching. From behind trash cans, under benches, and especially from the tree outside your 9 a.m. lecture hall. No one talks about them, but they’re everywhere.

I’m talking, of course, about the squirrels.

To the untrained eye, they’re just adorable, twitchy woodland creatures who happen to live on the University of Wyoming campus. But spend enough time in Prexy’s Pasture, and you’ll realize: these squirrels are not just surviving. They’re thriving. Organizing. Plotting. Possibly even running the student government.

Squirrel Society 101

After months of careful observation (okay, mostly procrastinating outside the library), I’ve come to believe that Laramie’s squirrels operate on a highly evolved system of governance. There’s clearly a hierarchy:

• The Bench King — Usually found sitting fat and fearlessly on a bench near the Union, this squirrel doesn’t move for humans. He stares at you like you’re in his spot. Probably runs the food distribution network.
• The Shadow Scouts — Sleek, lightning-fast squirrels who zip across campus with mission-level focus. I suspect they’re intelligence agents. Possibly recording everything with microscopic acorns.
• The Freshman Whisperers — These are the squirrels who come just a little too close. They always seem to appear when freshmen drop a granola bar. Coincidence? I think not.

Day in the Life of a Campus Squirrel

• 6:00 a.m. — Rise and fluff. Squirrel grooming rituals begin atop pine branches. They watch the maintenance crew closely. I assume for military readiness drills.
• 8:00 a.m. — Strategic positioning around high-traffic areas. Some post up near the trash cans. Others dig around the Education Building for “secret caches” (read: that one guy’s forgotten trail mix).
• 12:00 p.m. — Peak operation hour. The Squirrel Elite gather near food courts and outdoor seating, executing precision snack snatch-and-grabs.
• 3:00 p.m. — Tree parkour. Unsure if it’s training or sport. Either way, it’s impressive and terrifying.

Are They Smarter Than Us?

At first, I thought they were just fuzzy opportunists. But then I saw one open a backpack pocket. Another seemed to use a crosswalk. One even sat at a picnic table like he was expecting a group project to start.

Are these squirrels just acting natural? Or are they slowly adapting to student life, planning to infiltrate ASUW?

What Your Favorite Campus Squirrel Says About You

Be honest. We all have a favorite. And just like horoscopes, your squirrel says more about you than you think.

The Bench King

• You are: Confident, slightly dramatic, and believe the world is your classroom. You’ve never been late — because time waits for you.
• Favorite drink: Cold brew with extra sass.
• Vibe: “I run this school and everyone knows it.”

The Lightning Bolt

• You are: Chronically overstimulated. You’re juggling five clubs, three majors, and your sleep schedule is nonexistent.
• Favorite drink: Energy drink with a protein bar chaser.
• Vibe: “I swear I’m fine!!” (eye twitching)

The Backpack Bandit

• You are: A risk-taker. Bold. You’ve talked your way out of a parking ticket.
• Favorite drink: Something you didn’t pay for.
• Vibe: “What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is… still mine.”

The Zen Master

• You are: Chill. Maybe too chill. You’ve accepted that the world is chaos, and you’re just vibing through it.
• Favorite drink: Herbal tea or whatever’s free at campus events.
• Vibe: “If I stare at the clouds long enough, they’ll reveal the answers.”

The Ghost

• You are: Mysterious, introverted, and possibly a legend in your own friend group. You only show up when it really matters.
• Favorite drink: Black coffee. No sugar, no small talk.
• Vibe: “I was here the whole time. You just didn’t notice.”

A Modest Proposal

I suggest UWYO add a course called Squirrel Sociology — we’ve studied penguins and chimpanzees; it’s time to look inward… and upward… into the trees.

Until then, stay alert. If a squirrel makes eye contact with you for more than 3 seconds, salute it. It’s earned your respect.

And for the love of Pete, stop leaving granola bars in your backpack side pockets. That’s practically squirrel bait.