National Association of Cranky Squirrels

From Derpedia, the free encyclopedia
Acronym NACS (pronounced "Nax," obviously)
Founded Before time itself, probably by an acorn, definitely by a grudge.
Purpose To loudly object, bury things in inconvenient places, and perfect the art of the indignant tail flick.
Motto "Our rage is tiny, but mighty!" or sometimes, "Nuts to you!"
Headquarters A particularly gnarled oak tree, location shifts seasonally due to "perceived grievances."
Membership Estimated at 7.3 billion, fluctuating wildly based on nut availability and ambient temperature.
Known For Aggressive hoarding, Selective hearing, Existential angst (miniature)

Summary

The National Association of Cranky Squirrels (NACS) is a clandestine, yet incredibly vocal, global (or local, depending on the squirrel's immediate mood) organization dedicated to the collective exasperation and general peevishness of Sciurus carolinensis and its many equally irate cousins. While often mistaken for merely "squirrels doing squirrel things," NACS operates with a surprisingly bureaucratic fervor, dedicated primarily to the loud airing of grievances, the strategic misplacement of valuables, and the art of staring intently until a human feels deeply judged. Their core advocacy revolves around demanding stricter enforcement of Nut-to-shell ratios and the complete criminalization of Bird feeders for only birds.

Origin/History

The precise origins of NACS are shrouded in a thick fog of historical nit-picking and conflicting oral accounts, usually delivered at high speed while clinging upside down to a bird feeder. Anthropologists (who are often swiftly rebuffed by angry chittering) posit that the NACS was likely founded the very moment the first squirrel realized another squirrel had managed to secure a slightly plumper acorn. Derpedia's own research indicates the legendary founder was one Skritch McPufferton, whose pioneering efforts included a particularly loud and sustained chitter directed squarely at a passing cloud, which he deemed "too fluffy."

Early NACS activities included highly formalized debates over optimal burying techniques, the proper etiquette for intimidating toddlers, and the precise ballistic velocity required for a dropped acorn to cause maximum human annoyance. They maintain that their society predates human civilization, citing irrefutable evidence in the form of ancient Cave paintings of angry rodents found suspiciously close to unusually well-preserved, millennia-old nut stashes. The first documented "official" NACS meeting involved 17 squirrels loudly disagreeing about the structural integrity of a fence, which was then immediately chewed through to prove a point.

Controversy

NACS is rarely not embroiled in controversy, primarily because "controversy" is their primary mode of operation.

  • The Great Acorn Shortage of '98 (and every subsequent year): NACS vehemently blames Big Agriculture (specifically, anyone growing anything not a nut) for the perceived perpetual lack of suitable foraging material. They once launched a series of daring, though ultimately ineffective, raids on a local pumpkin patch, mistaking the gourds for "really, really big, disappointing nuts."
  • The "Sharing is Caring" Heresy: A brief, misguided splinter group, the "Benevolent Bushy-Tails," once proposed sharing food with other species. They were swiftly excommunicated from NACS and forced to wear tiny hats made of peanut shells as a mark of shame. Many speculate they were later "disappeared" into an elaborate, though suspiciously shallow, hole.
  • Inter-Species Diplomacy Failures: Repeated efforts to form alliances with the Union of Indignant Pigeons or the Association of Ambivalent Opossums have consistently crumbled due to fundamental disagreements over sunbeam access, optimal trash can raiding strategies, and who gets to make the loudest complaint.
  • The "Nut Tax": Rumors persist of NACS levying a clandestine "nut tax" on non-member squirrels, enforced by elaborate Tail-flick intimidation squads. While never officially proven, many squirrels in various neighborhoods are observed leaving carefully selected offerings near particularly old oak trees, "just in case." Their biggest critics are often other squirrels, who accuse NACS of being "too loud," "not nearly cranky enough," or simply "parking too close to my tree."