Have you ever looked at a squirrel and thought, “That’s one emotionally intelligent rodent”? Me neither, until I learned that Mother Squirrel apparently runs an adoption agency and a marriage counseling service out of her tree.

Yes, it turns out that when a female squirrel finds an orphaned baby, she doesn’t just shrug and say, “Nature, am I right?” She runs a full background check, makes sure the little guy is truly alone, and then—after a three-day grace period—adopts him as her own. I can’t even commit to a houseplant for three days, and this squirrel is out here building blended families.

And it doesn’t stop there. When Father Squirrel comes home from a long day of gathering acorns, his wife greets him with kisses and cuddles. Not passive-aggressive silence, not “You forgot the walnuts again,” but genuine affection. He, in turn, showers her with the largest walnuts and prettiest roses (because apparently, he shops at Rodent Whole Foods). Together, they raise their young and accidentally reforest the planet. Half the seeds they hoard sprout into new shrubs.

Let’s pause and give a tiny, nut-sized round of applause.

Now, while squirrels are out there being wholesome, nature also decided to throw in the duck-billed platypus—proof that evolution occasionally says, “Let’s have some fun.” This Australian wonder looks like a committee couldn’t agree on what animal to make. “Duck? Beaver? Otter? Reptile? Why not… all of them?”

The platypus lays eggs, has webbed feet, produces milk without nipples (just little milk puddles on her tummy—adorable and weirdly efficient), and hunts with her eyes closed using electric signals. Oh, and the male? Venomous. Because why not top off this evolutionary smoothie with a dash of “danger noodle”?

If the squirrel is Mother Nature’s Hallmark movie, the platypus is her abstract art phase—confusing, brilliant, and slightly concerning.

But just when I thought things couldn’t get stranger, I discovered the tardigrade, also known as the water bear—a microscopic creature that’s basically the Chuck Norris of biology. These teeny, eight-legged marshmallows have survived five mass extinctions. They can be frozen, boiled, dried out, zapped with radiation, even launched into space, and they’ll still shrug it off like, “Is that all you’ve got?”

When conditions get rough, they simply dehydrate themselves into a tiny raisin and take a power nap for a few decades. Scientists call this “cryptobiosis.” I call it “Monday.”

And while I was peering at moss under a microscope (because that’s a totally normal hobby for someone who doesn’t even fold laundry on time), I realized how complex and beautiful this tiny green carpet really is. There’s an entire ecosystem down there—plants breathing through stomata, little angiosperms squeezing between bricks, and water bears just vibing like microscopic Zen masters.

It’s enough to make you feel both humbled and slightly judged by your own backyard.

Then, just as I was settling into my newfound admiration for squirrels, platypuses, and water bears, quantum physics walked in and said, “Actually, there’s no such thing as things.” Excuse me?

Apparently, the universe is just a swirling soup of probabilities, particles that don’t really exist until you look at them, and objects that are entangled across space and time. Which means that somewhere, somehow, a squirrel, a platypus, and a tardigrade might all be sharing a quantum walnut right now.

So what’s the takeaway from all this scientific madness? Maybe it’s that the world is both sillier and smarter than we give it credit for. Maybe squirrels have the secret to family values, platypuses prove that weirdness works, and tardigrades remind us it’s okay to take a break (even if it lasts 30 years). Or maybe—just maybe—there are no “things” at all, only endless curiosity… and the occasional squirrel with an acorn bouquet.

RAMONA JAN is the Founder and Director of Yarnslingers, a storytelling group that tells tales both fantastic and true. She is also the roving historian for Callicoon, NY and is often seen giving tours around town. You can email her at callicoonwalkingtours@gmail.com.