STATE COLLEGE, Pa. — Penn State students know her as the Squirrel Whisperer, or even Squirrel Girl, which suits Mary Krupa just fine.
Four years ago, the senior became an internet sensation for placing tiny hats on the ubiquitous rodents that live near Penn State’s landmark Old Main building, and coaxing them to hold miniature props.
Though her Penn State career is winding down, Krupa, 22, is still up to her old tricks. Her photos of “Sneezy the Penn State Squirrel” continue to garner thousands of likes on Facebook and have been featured in magazines and calendars.
“It’s nice to make something and see that people like it. But I didn’t think it would last this long,” said Krupa, who graduated this month.
She began interacting with Penn State’s famously friendly gray squirrels her first week on campus in 2012. Krupa wondered what one would look like with a hat, and, pleased with the result, sent a photo to her grandmother, who loved it.
With Penn State reeling from the Jerry Sandusky sexual abuse scandal, Krupa decided her fellow students could use a laugh.
Krupa’s anthropomorphized Sneezy would become an unofficial mascot and, over the course of her college career, the English major dreamed up many amusing scenes for the squirrelly star.
There’s Sneezy pushing a tiny shopping cart filled with acorns. Sneezy holding a jack-o’-lantern at Halloween. Sneezy raking leaves, rooting for the home team and drinking tea, mostly while wearing an assortment of tiny hats.
Krupa is an unlikely celebrity. Growing up in a wooded neighborhood outside State College, she had always been fond of the birds, squirrels and other wildlife around her house.
Diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome, a milder form of autism, Krupa said she was a loner in high school, antisocial and awkward. Sneezy helped Krupa come out of her shell.
“The squirrel’s actually a good way to break the ice, because I’ll be sitting here patting a squirrel and other people will come over and we’ll just start like feeding the squirrels together and chatting about them,” she said.
On a mild November afternoon, Krupa looks for Sneezy in and around the majestic trees bracketing Old Main.
A plump female climbs up Krupa’s arm and takes a seat on her lap. It’s the current incarnation of Sneezy (there have been several). Krupa strokes the squirrel, then places her favorite hat — a fruited concoction made with her brother’s 3D printer — atop Sneezy’s head. It falls off, and the squirrel scampers away.
