Life, death, and a squirrel

One time when I was walking in Central Park, a branch fell from a really tall tree, perhaps a 50- to 60-foot drop. A squirrel was on that branch when it fell, and the branch hit the cement path with a loud thud.

The squirrel lay there on its back, quivering.

I knew it was totally screwed. Its back was probably broken, but it was clearly still alive.

“Fuck,” I thought to myself. “Look at how much it’s suffering. Should I kill it to put it out of its misery?”

I stood there pondering the question, trying to decide if the ethical thing to do was to kill it.

It then suddenly flipped over, ran through a hole in a fence, and climbed up a tree.

That was a great reminder of why one should set the bar extremely high for harming another creature “for a greater good.” It’s disturbing to me to consider the possibility I could have killed that squirrel in a foolish attempt to prevent its suffering.

It’s also a reminder that I don’t know shit about squirrels.

If you’re wondering how a squirrel could be okay after such a drop, a quick google search suggests it’s due to their high floofiness to mass ratio, plus their amazing falling instincts (they position their body and tail so as to increase drag).

But size is also a surprisingly important factor when it comes to falls. The smaller you are, the lower your kinetic energy is when you hit the ground, and the greater your surface area is relative to your mass, which means that air resistance has more effect. If dropped from a high place, an ant lands gracefully on the ground, whereas a whale practically explodes.

So if you ever fall from the top of a tall tree, I’d recommend being an ant or at least a squirrel, and definitely not a whale.

This was first written on November 16, 2022, and first appeared on this site on November 18, 2022.