I don't get it. People set out a veritable feast—sunflower seeds and corn—and then tell us they don't serve our kind. It's just wrong. But I'm proud of my friends—no matter how egregiously those people shun us, we limit our protests to simple civil disobedience, without destroying property (well, we're not perfect here, but we do our best) or saying naughty words. But I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of squirrels and the sons of chickadees will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood and peanuts.