Jonny McCambridge: My lifelong quest to see a red squirrel (and my lifelong failure)

The explanation for this unlikely behaviour was that I wanted to see a red squirrel. I had not made the Caledonian trip with the purpose of observing a rodent, but was travelling close to a park which was home to a number of the endangered species. I could not miss the opportunity to have an up-close experience.

And so, I spent a fair portion of that distant Sunday inside the little wooden viewing hut with binoculars. I saw plenty of trees, a reasonable number of birds and no shortage of rain. What I did not see were any squirrels. I left at the end of the day, demoralised and soaked.

Perhaps I should not have been surprised. I have always had a distant relationship with squirrels.

I grew up in the north Antrim countryside. Our house was surrounded by trees and I spent countless hours as a boy exploring them. I would hazard a guess that I spent more of my childhood hanging off branches than most kids of my generation.

And yet, I don't remember ever encountering a squirrel.

On the face of it, it may seem to be logical that the more time spent around trees, the higher the likelihood of seeing the bushy-tailed creatures.

However, it is also undoubtedly true that the shy rodents would hardly choose to gather food in a tree that is also occupied by a noisy youth. While I was snapping off branches, clumsily attempting to erect tree houses or tying ropes as swings, squirrels were unlikely to hang around to feed me nuts when I got peckish.

Perversely, it was only when l left the countryside and embraced city life as a young adult that I first saw a squirrel, scurrying up and down trees in Belfast's Botanic Park. I have a keen memory of being curious enough to stop and watch the furry climber and (before mobile phones), buying a disposable camera from a nearby chemist as part of a forlorn effort to capture an image.

My initial excitement at seeing the animal was tempered somewhat when I subsequently discovered that the species I was viewing was the grey squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis), rather than the native red (Sciurus vulgaris).

I later found out that the grey was introduced to the UK and Ireland from north America late in the 19th century and spread rapidly, displacing the indigenous creatures.

The grey is larger, better able to survive winter conditions and carries a virus to which the red has no immunity. The displacement problem was so intense that the number of reds dropped dramatically to the point of being threatened with extinction while the grey is viewed as a pest.

I then felt rather foolish at feeling so excited about seeing the larger creature, though I reasoned to myself that it was not the fault of the grey squirrel that it was brought across the Atlantic and released into the wild, and that the animal itself is not worthy of my opprobrium. I also decided, while it was not on my bucket list of things I had to do in life, it would be preferable to see a native red squirrel.

And so, back to that soggy Sunday which I spent fruitlessly waiting inside that wooden box in Scotland. I've been on a few other walking trips in forests which host conservation efforts, without seeing anything squirrel-shaped.

I went to Belfast Zoo, which has a red squirrel "nook". If, unable to see the shy arboreal in the wild, I thought better to observe one in captivity. I spent half an hour looking towards an area of empty netting. Once again, no squirrels appeared. I had to give up as my son wanted to see lions, giraffes and elephants rather than waiting all day for the slight chance that a small rodent would pop its head outside its box.

Recently, I went on a trip with some family to a resort in a forest in Co Longford. Reading about the venue in advance, I noted the literature reported that red squirrels could be spotted near to the accommodation.

“Hmphhhh...” I mumbled to myself. “I won't be taken for a fool again.”

However, as we settled into the location, my cynicism was punctured. After a few beers on the first night in the cabin, I told my party of my lifelong quest to see a red squirrel, which I hoped would finally be realised.

My in-laws were the first to see the red squirrels. They saw them twice. On the second occasion the little animals hung around obediently while my father-in-law recorded them on his phone.

Then my sister-in-law saw the squirrels. Then my nephews, son and my wife. Everyone in the group....apart from me.

Each time there was a squirrel sighting the alarm would go up.

“Get Jonny! Quick...get Jonny!”

I would then come running, from whatever activity was diverting me at that moment. A wheezing, gasping mess, I would hurry in the direction of where the squirrel had been spotted....but always just a moment too late.

Once I arrived just in time to see some movement of a branch.

“Does that count?” I foolishly enquired of my wife, even though I knew it could have been merely a gust of wind.

By the final day I had given up hope. Our group were walking towards the car with suitcases when I saw my sister-in-law waving frantically towards me. I moved silently to where she was standing.

And there, between the trees were two red squirrels. They were even smaller than I had imagined, with fur the colour of rust, bushy tails and tufted ears. They scurried busily across the ground but remained in sight for several minutes.

Soon, a small crowd had gathered. People began to go for their phones to record the images.

I did not, I just stood there and watched.