The Squirrel? Or Me?

This past Sunday, while on a 30-mile bike ride, I was posed with an interesting dilemma. To save a squirrel? Or, to save myself? I had to choose quickly and I chose myself.

Anyone who has a road bike knows that you have to make plenty of split second decisions when your shoes are clicked in. I was pedaling at around 15 mph when the squirrel darted toward me. He was approaching rapidly from the right and I could see a man and woman walking toward me from the left. The only way to avoid hitting the people and saving myself from a disastrous headlong launch over the handlebars was to flatten the squirrel.

Hoping for the best for all parties involved, I hunched over, continued to pedal, and screamed, “AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!”

The woman in front of me threw her arms up, bugged her eyes, and yelled, “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!”

The squirrel ran right into the spokes of my front tire and went on the spin cycle of his life. I could hear his little furry body hitting against the spokes and frame. It reminded me of the sound of a playing card in my bicycle tire spokes when I was little, only not so pleasant, given the circumstances.

Amazingly, he was ejected from the spokes, hopped alongside me, and jumped right back into the tire as I continued to scream. The thumping continued for a moment until he flew out and bounced off the side of the bike path and into the woods.

The entire incident happened so fast that I hadn’t even caught up to the man and woman, who was still screaming with me and waving her arms wildly. As I whooshed by them, I yelled, “Is it okay?!?!?”

“It’s fine! It’s fine! Keep going!” she reassured me.

Happy to be alive and uninjured, I continued on my way. Naturally, I felt guilty about the poor squirrel. I wondered what happened to him but, honestly, I was happier to have not broken my collarbone and/or my wrists. I’m sure the woman was happy that I didn’t swerve and flatten her instead.

This incident continues to disturb my thoughts. After all, yoga teaches us ahimsa, non-violence. A part of me feels like I callously injured a squirrel just to ensure my own safety and well-being. Another part of me knows that our instinct for survival as humans is very powerful and kicks in when we feel threatened. So, on the other hand, I would have been inflicting violence on myself, or the woman, had I chosen to avoid injuring the squirrel.

I keep telling myself that the squirrel is fine. He must have limped angrily back to his nest and informed his squirrel family that he was captured by some strange thrashing machine and launched violently through the air for no reason. His squirrel friends probably told him to be more careful in the future as the acorn path is notorious for several different types of giant wheeled torture devices. Afterwards, they all proudly showed off their scars and gashes and boasted about who had been run over the most times.

Perhaps this unfortunate incident was just the incentive the frustrated squirrel community needed in order to be inspired to organize a revolt to put a stop to the abuse by wheeled humans. I’ll let you know if an army of angry squirrel bandits attempts to overtake me the next time I go for a bike ride. And, really, how can I be sure this little squirrel wasn’t aiming for me on purpose for this very reason? In the meantime, I drew a picture of the incident and hope you’ll join me in sending healing energy to this squirrel and all the squirrels of the world.