Ahh, squirrel season. It’s the time of year where the furry little rodents are running around more than usual, dodging more cars and frantically searching for the last morsels of food they can store away for the upcoming winter season.

We have several in our yard that spend all day hopping around the grass, picking stuff up, putting it down, picking up some more and burying it in the ground. But they’re all big squirrels.

Where are the baby squirrels?

Apparently, they exist in some form. Google has 2.87 million results for “baby squirrels,” though most of the sites are guides for how to care for a baby squirrel should you find one in desperate need of medical attention.

So someone is seeing them, just not me or really anyone I’ve ever had a squirrel-related conversation with. And after attending four years at a rural educational institution overrun with the darn things, it’s not like I’m just looking in the wrong place.

The only logical conclusion is that baby squirrels are kept in some kind of commune. If a baby squirrel is found—a la the 2.87 million Google findings—it is only because they A) got lost on the way to the commune or B) violated the laws of the commune and were evicted.

Getting lost is easy. After all, have you ever been to a commune? Know where one is? Exactly. They are highly secretive and are designed not to be found, especially those created by and for animals with big bushy tails.

What you certainly don’t hear about is all the drinking and general carousing that goes on in these places. Believe it or not, the United States does not have a minimum drinking age for squirrels. That’s right, no drinking age. They start getting hammered at 2-3 weeks old, long before their body is ready to handle the sweet nectar physically, and certainly before they can handle the responsibility.

We all know that underage drinking leads to many problems, not the least of which include fighting, urinating in your friend’s bedroom, getting written on with a Sharpie and Communism. The same things happen in the squirrel world, though the Sharpie writings are harder to see on the fur. All of these offenses are grounds for dismissal from the baby squirrel commune.

Then there’s the other ways to get kicked out: Theft, assault, illegal downloading, dying another’s tail fur, dying your own tail fur, headstands, attempted flying, eating the last of the Cheerios, not mopping behind the refrigerator, not flossing after eating and last but not least, double-dipping acorns in the salsa.

With all of those rules, it’s a wonder any of the squirrels can live happy lives there. Probably explains the high roadway-suicide rate.