In a plot twist that has wildlife enthusiasts scratching their heads, a band of audacious squirrels has pulled off what experts are calling the 'Great Nut Caper' at Elmwood Park. Eyewitnesses report seeing the bushy-tailed culprits coordinating with military precision, using acorn signals and twig maps to orchestrate their daring raid on the park's central nut depository.

Park rangers, caught off guard by the furry felons' ingenuity, attempted to intervene but were thwarted at every turn. One ranger, who wished to remain anonymous, described the scene: 'It was like watching Ocean's Eleven, but with more tails and less George Clooney. They had lookouts on branches, decoys distracting picnickers, and even what looked like tiny wheelbarrows for hauling their loot.'

The mastermind behind the operation is believed to be a grizzled squirrel known only as 'Nutcracker Ned,' a veteran of several autumn harvests with a reputation for outwitting humans. Sources close to the squirrel underworld suggest Ned assembled a crack team including 'Swift Sally' for reconnaissance and 'Burly Bob' for heavy lifting, turning the park into their personal heist playground.

As the raid unfolded in broad daylight, bewildered visitors captured footage on their phones, showing squirrels zipping across lawns in what appeared to be modified toy cars—rumored to be stolen from a nearby playground. 'They revved up those little engines and zoomed off like they were in a Fast and Furious sequel,' said one amused onlooker, who admitted to cheering for the underdogs.

Local authorities are now scrambling to beef up park security, considering everything from squirrel-proof nut vaults to ranger training in rodent psychology. Meanwhile, the squirrels seem to have vanished into the treetops, their ill-gotten gains presumably stashed in secret hollows, leaving behind only a trail of cracked shells and ranger frustration.

In a bizarre turn, animal rights activists have rallied in support of the squirrels, arguing that the heist was a protest against habitat encroachment. 'These aren't criminals; they're revolutionaries fighting for their right to hoard,' proclaimed one protester, waving a sign that read 'Nuts for All!'

As the dust settles, Elmwood Park returns to its peaceful facade, but whispers among the wildlife suggest this might just be the beginning. Will Nutcracker Ned strike again? Only time—and the next acorn season—will tell in this nutty saga of rebellion and rodent resilience.