Bright and early last Monday morning, I sat in my parked car nursing a cup of bad gas station coffee, listening to a local Olney, Illinois radio station, and blowing my nose over and over again. My Rudolph-red schnozz was an open faucet, my head thick and foggy from the ridiculous quantities of cold and cough remedies that had kept me among the living for over a week now.
It’s an old and familiar story; I go from being a recluse, spending months at home writing and playing in the Montana backcountry, to visiting literally thousands of germ-infested students and teachers per day for my Iditarod school talks. I’m on the road for months at a time; the endless ailments are part of the job.
As I waited in my car for the librarian to arrive at St. Joe’s Catholic School and unlock the gymnasium so I could drag in my dog sled and gear, the fat, bushy-tailed squirrels darting back and forth across the school lawn, disappearing up the massive hardwood trees, took my mind off my misery.
I was half asleep when out of the corner of my eye I spotted a flash of white among the red and gold leaves covering the ground. I wiped the condensation from my windshield for a closer look. I assumed the white figure was a cat on an early morning hunt.
I looked. I squinted. I leaned forward in my seat. “I’ve overdosed on NyQuil,” I thought to myself. “What is that?”
Finally, I figured it out - the strange critter was a white squirrel. I stepped out of my car, scanning the parking lot to see if anyone else was around to share in the rare rodent sighting.
The squirrel was snow-white - clean and shiny. It was a plump, lively rodent, sporting a thick, fluffy white tail that it twitched back and forth like a surrender flag.
As soon as the librarian arrived, I told her about the bizarre albino squirrel.
“You won’t believe this,” I said. “I just saw a white squirrel.”
She looked at me with a half-amused, half-bored expression. “Apparently, you didn’t see the sign when you entered town. Olney, Illinois is the ‘Home of the White Squirrels’. It’s our claim to fame.”
I spent the day in Olney. As I drove around town, I saw one white squirrel here, another one there. Their brilliant white bodies stood out like a sore thumb against the dark tree trunks, green grass, and colorful autumn foliage. My dogs could spot them from a mile away. “It’s amazing their poor camouflage hasn’t led to their extinction,” I thought. I was curious about the critters so I started asking and looking around for more information.
According to www.RoadsideAmerica.com, Olney, Illinois isn’t the only town using albino squirrels as their claim to fame. White squirrels can also be found in Kenton, Tennessee; Marionville, Missouri; Brevard, North Carolina; and Exeter, Ontario.
“Olney, Illinois is the loudest booster of all albino squirrel towns,” www.RoadsideAmerica.com explains. “It scoffs at the other towns’ albinos. ‘Most of theirs have dark eyes,’ they told us.”
Every albino squirrel town has a different story for how their unusual critters came to be. “Marionville believes the squirrels arrived in town just before the civil war and that they escaped from a traveling circus. ‘The squirrels in Olney were kidnapped from Marionville,’ they (a Marionville spokesperson) explain.”
Olney holds a white squirrel count every year. A town ordinance disallows dogs and cats from running at large.
“Laws on the Olney books give the squirrels right-of-way on every street,” www.RoadsideAmerica.com warns. “Residents are fined if they try to leave town with one. Local police patches bear an outline of a bushy-tailed albino. Big Squirrel is watching you.”
After my late education in albino squirrels, I was thankful I hadn’t released my two dogs for a jaunt around city park when I first arrived in town. More than likely, one of the rare and treasured rodents would have been history - and breakfast. And I might behind bars.
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