Dearly Beloved has added another weapon to his arsenal in The Battle of the Bird Feeders. He has ceded the entire yard to the damnsquirrels (despite my protests) but maintains his line in the sand at granting them bird feeder privileges.
Even with the entire yard under their control, those damnsquirrels love a challenge. They aren’t happy until they suction every last seed out of the feeders.
Putting oil on the post holding the feeders did nothing except give them lubricated foot pads. Throwing things at them gave him a measure of satisfaction until he wrenched his shoulder and ended any thoughts of Olympic broom tossing Gold.
After another trip to the hardware store and a confab with the old farts that hang around there giving squirrelly advice, he came home with some white, thicker-than-lard goop and applied it to the post.
When I say things are getting ugly, I mean literally. Look at this stuff! Ugh.
He filled the feeders and we left for the beach. I’ve been worried ever since.
With the temperatures in the upper 90’s, is that stuff going to melt and cause an oil spill in my rose bed?
Is it all goo or is it sticky, too? Will we return to find squirrels velcroed to the post? Pole-fried squirrels. ICK!
The NY Times has a science article about squirrels and their ability to survive and thrive. Usually I consider them a reliable source, but several facts here don’t ring true. For one thing, they say a squirrel is fertile one day a year. No way am I believing that. CLUE: they often have two litters a year. Another is that ‘most every time we see a squirrel, he’s chasing tail, right? The law of average must come into play.
But just how many of these do you encounter?
It’s not like we’re over-reacting. Their Latin name is Sciurus carolinensis. I don’t care what the textbook tells you, I say it means Scourge of the Carolinas. According to the Times, The International Union for Conservation of Nature lists them as one of the 100 most invasive species, right up there with kudzu and rats.
I wish DB was more incensed about their activities in the garden. They dig holes everywhere. Each squirrel has thousands of caches, a number which increases significantly if one has outdoor flower pots. Herbert Hoover may have called for a chicken in every pot, but Sammy Squirrel adds acorns. Thus we plant zinnia seeds and get oak trees.
Their life span is another point of contention. There’s proof that they’ve been around at least 50,000, 000 years and frankly, I don’t think they ever die. Have you ever seen a squirrel keel over? I read once that sometimes they get depressed and commit suicide by running in front of a car, which is why we’ll occasionally see a dead one in the street.
They’re neurotic, you know. Always hiding nuts and digging them up to re-hide because they think someone is watching. Their favorite spots are usually under MY plantings.
My husband is ordinarily a mild-mannered man, but if he could catch one of the squirrels, I’m pretty certain I know where he’d mount it to act as a deterrent.
Several people have offered their cats’ services and I thinking about it. BroJoe photographed the one I’d like to have patrolling the yard for a while.
His name is Bob.