Rodents confirm with nuts
PINE RIDGE, MONTANA – A bizarre encounter with Mother Nature’s most violent force has left local handyman Derek Wisnewski claiming he can now communicate with squirrels—and the furry creatures are apparently talking back with a vengeance.
The 34-year-old roofer was struck by lightning last Tuesday while working on the Henderson family barn during what meteorologists are calling an “unusually focused electrical storm.” But instead of the typical burns, memory loss, or cardiac issues associated with lightning strikes, Wisnewski emerged from his coma three days later chattering in what witnesses describe as an elaborate series of clicks, squeaks, and tail-twitching motions.
“At first we thought he had brain damage,” said his wife, Linda Wisnewski, clutching a rosary outside Pine Ridge General Hospital. “But then the squirrels started showing up. Hundreds of them. They’d sit outside his window, and Derek would make these weird noises, and they’d make noises back. It was like watching some kind of devil’s conference call.”
Hospital staff initially dismissed the phenomenon as post-trauma hallucinations until security cameras captured footage of what appears to be organized squirrel behavior. The rodents began arriving in groups, depositing acorns, walnuts, and pine cones in precise geometric patterns outside Wisnewski’s room. When maintenance attempted to clear the offerings, the squirrels became aggressively protective, leading to what hospital administrator Dr. Margaret Foster described as “an unprecedented interspecies standoff.”
The situation escalated when Wisnewski was released and returned to his suburban home. Neighbors report that squirrels from across three counties have been migrating to his backyard, creating what locals are calling a “rodent refugee camp.” The animals have constructed elaborate shelters using stolen Christmas lights, garden hoses, and what appears to be a systematic raid on local bird feeders.
“I’ve been studying animal behavior for thirty years, and I’ve never seen anything like this,” said Dr. Cornelius Blackwood, professor of zoology at Montana State University, who drove four hours to witness the phenomenon firsthand. “These squirrels are exhibiting complex social organization patterns typically seen only in higher primates. They’ve established what can only be described as a military-style hierarchy, complete with sentries, supply chains, and coordinated foraging operations.”
Wisnewski himself remains adamant that his newfound abilities are genuine. Through a translator—his 12-year-old daughter Emma, who claims to understand “some of daddy’s squirrel talk”—he explained that the lightning strike “rewired his brain’s frequency” to match squirrel neural patterns. According to Emma’s interpretation, her father believes he was chosen to serve as an ambassador between humans and what he calls “the underground squirrel resistance movement.”
The rodents have allegedly shared disturbing intelligence about human activity, including the locations of planned construction projects, seasonal changes in nut availability, and what Wisnewski describes as “preparation for the coming winter war.” Local authorities have declined to comment on these claims, but sources within the Pine Ridge Sheriff’s Department confirm they’ve received numerous reports of organized squirrel surveillance activities.
Environmental scientist Dr. Rachel Morrison warns that this could represent an evolutionary leap triggered by electromagnetic interference. “Lightning carries over one billion volts of electricity,” she explained via telephone from her research facility in Colorado. “If that energy somehow created a bridge between human and rodent consciousness, we could be looking at the first documented case of cross-species telepathic communication. The implications for both neuroscience and national security are staggering.”
The squirrels’ confirmation system—using various nuts to indicate yes, no, and degrees of certainty—has been documented by multiple witnesses. Local news crews have captured footage of Wisnewski asking questions in his strange chittering language, with squirrels responding by arranging acorns in specific patterns that he then “translates” for observers.
Federal wildlife officials have opened an investigation, though they refuse to discuss details. Meanwhile, the Wisnewski property has been surrounded by a growing encampment of researchers, conspiracy theorists, and what Emma describes as “very serious men in dark suits who keep asking daddy to work for the government.”
The characters and events depicted in this story are entirely fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or to actual events is unintentional and purely coincidental.
