Phat Gus was already airborne before the trap door finished dropping. One moment there was a ramp, and the next there was only open air, and the stocky squirrel from Hubcap Hills was in it, committed, her cheeks packed with contraband walnuts she had absolutely refused to leave behind. That image, a rotund athlete suspended mid-launch with zero regret, captures everything that made this summer’s backyard squirrel competition one for the ages. Mark Rober, the engineer behind three years of increasingly elaborate squirrel engineering, declared this the third and final chapter of his obsession, and he went out with a doping scandal, an inter-species bully, baby footage, and a championship reversal that sent one squirrel sprinting straight to the trophy.
After two years of trying to stop squirrels from raiding his bird feeder with obstacle courses they kept defeating, Rober shifted the premise entirely. Instead of him versus them, it would be them versus each other, across seven purpose-built backyard events, all competing for a physical trophy he named the Walnut Cup.
Four athletes, two neighborhoods, very different upbringings
The competition introduced four squirrels with full backstories. Phat Gus and her sister Augustine represented Hubcap Hills, a modest part of the neighborhood where the family repurposed whatever they could scavenge. Rick and Marty came from Walnut Estates, where there was a hickory piano, a fully stocked bookshelf, and what Rober described as two whole rooms. Baby footage of each competitor showed the differences early: Augustine spent an absurd amount of time arranging her sleeping spot before napping for approximately three seconds, while Marty, even as a juvenile, was already burying the family toy basketball under a rug where Rick would never find it.
The seven events ran the full spectrum: a ski jump with a pneumatic trap door, a spinning balance beam, a wooden ball puzzle called Quick Drop, a long jump over a sandpit, the Nutcracker (crack and eat a walnut in its shell), the Thunder Dome (last squirrel standing), and a climactic high jump. Walnut Estates jumped to a three-to-nothing lead before Hubcap Hills found their footing. The long jump was the turning point. Phat Gus, who had spent the earlier rounds losing points and time to pure enthusiasm for stuffing walnuts, launched herself across the gap and stuck a landing that left the backyard commentators reaching for melon ballers as a unit of astonishment. The Nutcracker went cleanly to Hubcap Hills. Augustine simply bit directly through the shell, which, as the commentary noted, still counts.
Fat Tail, Russian walnuts, and a championship that changed hands twice
The Thunder Dome event introduced the season’s villain: a large rat named Fat Tail, who terrorized all four competitors across multiple events. In the dome itself, Phat Gus stood helpless while Fat Tail stole the walnuts, then reclaimed the platform the moment he left and held it against every challenger, including Fat Tail on his return. As Rober put it, this was Phat Gus’s world, and everyone else was just living in it. That win tied the series at three medals each, setting up a high jump final.
Marty won it, barely, by grabbing the side of the platform on his way over. Walnut Estates was declared champion. Then the broadcast cut to breaking news. A review of competition footage showed Marty had been flexing constantly, displaying muscles that simply did not add up. A raid of Walnut Estates turned up a trapdoor beneath the rug and, inside it, two bags of Russian walnuts, which are strictly prohibited under Backyard Games rules. The sportscaster called it ‘disappointing on a molecular level.’ Fat Tail, it emerged from further footage, had been supplying the contraband through the underground sewer network at night, which squirrels, being non-nocturnal, could not access alone.
The gold medal was stripped from Marty, awarded to Phat Gus, and Hubcap Hills was named champion. Augustine, upon hearing the news, could not contain herself.
The moment Fat Tail met his match
A security camera caught the instant Phat Gus stopped flinching. Fat Tail had just left the Thunder Dome after clearing out the walnut supply, and when he came back, the squirrel waiting for him was not the same one he had pushed around before. Fat Tail was removed from the platform and did not return.
Phat Gus and Augustine eventually signed endorsement deals, used the income to relocate to the Japanese maple down the street, and added a lawn ornament to the yard as what Rober called ‘a playful flex to their neighbors below.’ The Walnut Cup went to Hubcap Hills, Fat Tail served time, and Marty was eventually forgiven, because, as Rober noted, that is what good friends do.
