Critter City

(By Len Spoden For The Washington Post)

News of the covert op reached the news media, and a public outcry ensued. Sen. Richard Neuberger (D-Ore.) launched a drive to save the White House squirrels, ponying up $25 to start a fund for a fence around the green. Within days, the White House announced a halt to the effort. Mission not really accomplished.

The squirrels of President's Park -- the official name for the parkland surrounding the White House, including Lafayette Square -- were just getting started. Squirrel problems were reported over the next- two decades, though nothing raised alarm bells quite like the furor that followed the Lafayette Square squirrel baby boom of 1977. In a two-day period, the burgeoning squirrel population ate more than $2,200 worth of geraniums, according to news reports.

They also gnawed through more than half a dozen newly planted trees, adding to their munchies tab. Park Service staff tried trapping the squirrels and relocating them outside the city but abandoned the effort after it sparked yet another public outcry.

The Hand That Feeds

In 1980, park officials and researchers studied the Lafayette Square squirrel population in-depth. Ultimately, they documented the highest squirrel density ever recorded to that point. But the qualitative observations were perhaps even more striking.

David Manski, who headed the study, says he initially planned to observe just the squirrels. But when he and his colleagues began spending time in the park, he says, it quickly became clear that to understand what was happening with Lafayette Square's squirrels, they needed to watch the park's humans just as closely.

The squirrel-feeding habits of this population, they found, fell into distinct categories: There were "zoo keepers," who fed the squirrels and gave them water out of concern for their well-being. And there were "zoo visitors," who fed the squirrels for entertainment. Their observations were many and fascinating, but the bottom line was that the squirrels were getting a ton of food.

Perhaps squirrels were destined to thrive in Washington. With friends in high places, support from vocal, impassioned lobbyists and a strong public approval rating, their effectiveness as an especially cute special interest group has established them as one of the city's most powerful creatures. And in this town, power is everything. Even when you're living on peanuts.