What Can Squirrels Teach Humans About Leaps of Faith?

Recently, as I was preparing for the rapidly approaching start of Kenyon College’s fall semester, the latest issue of the journal Science appeared in my mailbox and immediately caught my eye. The cover featured a striking photo of squirrels leaping through the air across the page. It reminded me of the leaping squirrels we regularly observe here on our campus in rural Ohio: scurrying up the trunk of one tree, dashing out onto a limb that bends under the weight, then taking what appears to be a leap of faith from the limb of one tree to the limb of another, defying gravity while precisely hitting the target, continuing to scurry forward and preparing for the next jump.

I use the phrase “leap of faith,” and indeed that is what it looks like when a squirrel goes from one fragile branch to another. The phrase “leap of faith” refers to a belief in something that cannot be tangibly proven; more colloquially, it is used to refer to actions taken without confidence they will succeed. The Danish philosopher S?ren Kierkegaard uses the concept of “leap” to describe the foundational choice Christians make in a belief system — the choice to invest trust in God is a “leap of faith.” A couple of centuries later, in the song “Leap of Faith,” Bruce Springsteen sings the phrase as an urging to take a chance on love: “It takes a leap of faith you gotta show some guts / it takes a leap of faith to get things going / In your heart you must trust.” My lasting image of the concept of “leap of faith” comes from the movie “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade,” when Harrison Ford closes his eyes to step into an abyss but finds his foot hit the solid ground of a stone bridge.

Yet the research article that inspired the cover image reveals that the adaptive movement of squirrels is not exactly a leap of faith. In order to study how squirrels learn to take leaps across large gaps, the scientists built a squirrel parkour course, with ledges that could be varied in distance, stability, and grip, then filmed squirrels of different sizes and ages jumping across various gaps. The major conclusion is that squirrels are capable of remarkable adaptation of their jumping mechanics. Young squirrels do not simply learn how to jump, but rather they are constantly learning how to learn how to jump — picking up cues on the right ways to adjust their motion in response to the conditions they face.

“We face each leap as a squirrel, building on past experience, taking in new knowledge along the way, and emerging prepared to leap again.”

Squirrels build on their experience of previous leaps, but also draw upon an ability to innovate, even making cool moves such as tapping off a wall in order to stretch out a longer jump. Not every leap is graceful or well-planned: sometimes there is an extra stretch needed to grab a ledge, sometimes an awkward backflip needed to land right-side up. But, each mistake, each moment of awkwardness is a moment for learning, and the squirrels not only adapt their assessments of gaps but also expand their repertoire of movements. What appear to be leaps into the unknown are points when squirrels assess new environments, apply knowledge from prior experience, and take in new information. The squirrels quite literally solve problems on the fly, then find themselves better prepared to face the same gaps next time around.

Sometimes we might feel like Indiana Jones facing the abyss. But we face each leap as a squirrel, building on past experience, taking in new knowledge along the way, and emerging prepared to leap again. Some of the landings will be awkward; sometimes we encounter problems that require cool parkour moves or even backflips to solve. But, each time, we draw upon past experience, integrate new information, and emerge with a more robust toolset to face the next leap.