Nut Collector

Squirrels were a recurring green tribal gag in this era of design, a punchline the block kept circling, and this is the engine that takes the joke seriously. The body is unremarkable: a fragile 1/1 that drips one token per upkeep, slow to assemble a board on its own. The payoff is the threshold clause, a global anthem that buffs every Squirrel on the battlefield by +2/+2 once your graveyard hits seven (the tokens it makes, plus any opposing Squirrels caught in the swing, though that mattering is rare). Note the maker stays out of the deal: a Human Druid does not benefit from its own anthem, so the engine itself remains a 1/1 even after threshold flips on. That structure rewards exactly the graveyard-fueled deck the design was built around: one that mills, discards, and trades early to stock its yard past seven, then turns a swarm of vanilla zero-cost tokens into a real clock. The anthem is static and conditional, so it blinks off the moment your graveyard shrinks below seven, tying the card to the central tension between filling the yard and protecting it. It is honest about its weaknesses: the upkeep token gives the opponent a full turn before the threat materializes, the body dies to anything, and a single sweeper resets the whole project. But it is the cornerstone of the Squirrel build the flavor kept promising, the card that turned a recurring joke into an actual archetype, and the reason Squirrel tokens read as a creature type with real upside.