In a bold display of governmental foresight and rodent appreciation, the Latvian Ministry of Natural Enchantments (MNE) has unveiled its latest environmental initiative: The Great Latvian Squirrel Census of 2023. Minister Andris Riekstiņš declared at a press conference yesterday, ‘No squirrel shall go uncounted, untold, or uncelebrated!’

The census, lovingly dubbed ‘Operation Nutty Endeavor,’ aims to accurately document the squirrel population across Latvia, complete with names, photos, and preferred acorn varieties. With over 10,000 volunteers already enlisted, armed with squirrel-sized clipboards and an uncanny knack for squeak translation, this effort has instantly taken root as Latvia’s quirkiest eco-event of the decade.

‘We’re not just counting squirrels, we’re understanding them,’ explained lead squirrel statistician, Dr. Inga Kastaņola, whose lifelong passion for rodent demographics finally met its match. ‘It’s important to know which regions prefer hazelnuts over chestnuts, and whether Riga’s park squirrels have a different dialect from their Jurmala cousins.’

The first day of the census took a surprise turn when squirrels self-organized into groups by fur color at Riga's Vērmanes Garden, holding what appeared to be mini-town hall meetings. Lead field volunteer, Olga Zālīte, reported, ‘We thought we were counting them, but it seems they started polling themselves. It’s a beautiful lesson in interspecies democracy.’

Skeptics, however, question the utility of such an endeavor. A prominent voice of dissent is Raitis Dzenītis, head of We’ve Gone Nuts, a grassroots organization urging the government to focus on more pressing issues like potholes the size of small lakes. ‘I like a good squirrel as much as anyone, but let’s not lose the forest for the trees—or the squirrels within those trees,’ argued Dzenītis at a counter-rally complete with life-sized squirrel costumes protesting the potential misallocation of funds.

Nevertheless, public reaction has soared to uncharacteristically high levels of approval for government initiatives. Café owner Viktorija Rieksta noted, ‘It’s brought a sense of connection—between humans and nature, but also just among neighbors. We’re all sharing squirrel sightings like football scores.’

Adding to the whimsy, the Ministry has also announced a celebratory festival at the conclusion of the census next spring. Tentatively named ‘Latvia’s Squirrel Soirée,’ the event promises to transform the Strelnieki Square into a nut-filled haven, prized for its anticipated acorn scavenger hunt and appearances by Skriem Squirrel, Latvia’s furry educational mascot.

Despite the absurd beginnings, perhaps the gesture has unearthed something profound: a nation united over the mysteries of their smallest citizens, handling challenges with humor and camaraderie. As Minister Riekstiņš summarized, ‘If Latvia can unite over squirrels, think of what else we can accomplish. Let’s see where this crazy acorn maze leads us.’