Now, let me preface this by mentioning that I am fully aware of what a scourge squirrels can be to homeowners and of their somewhat repugnant status as members of the rodent family. But considering that I no longer belong to that particular socio-economic group ”“ homeowners, not rodents ”“ I can now better appreciate, and even go so far as to enjoy, these small creatures. They can still be as annoying and frustrating as ever, particularly at the bird feeders that I insist on putting out no matter where I happen to be living. And the battle to get as much of the seed into the birds’ stomachs continues, but not without the occasional comical moment that even impresses me as to the resourcefulness and determination of these little guys ”“ and gals.
About a week ago, we were blessed with some pretty cold and windy weather, and one morning, I watched through the porch door window as one very determined squirrel clung to the edge of the feeder bowl, searching for and devouring sunflower seeds as quickly as possible. The sharp wind drove its tail forward over its head and buffeted its small body about, but it clung steadfastly to that bowl and kept eating away. Now squirrels, like birds, do not consume the entire nut, shell and all. It first has to open it to get at the tender kernel inside, and it does this at a mind-boggling speed, without missing a beat. The empty shell halves haven’t completely fallen away before it has another in its small paws and continues doing this until I either open the door to shoo it away, or a boisterous flock of blue jays or brown-headed cowbirds swoops in to take over.
I didn’t open the door that morning. I couldn’t interrupt the squirrel’s meal, not with that wind blowing and in those frigid temperatures. I was once again reminded of what incredible odds this creature, as well as most others, must overcome to simply survive, and how finding food is indeed a matter of life or death for them. I was also moved by how the squirrel allowed nothing to stop it, not even the sight of the human at the window, and how madly it ate knowing instinctively that its meal could end at any moment.
I’ve had many different and fascinating experiences with Sciurus caroliniensis during the last few years, particularly on an observational level. I’ve watched them break twigs off trees to build nests, climb to the tops of oak trees in early fall to knock acorns down, walk like tightrope artists down the length of a clothesline to access a feeder, and carry one of its young in its mouth as it fled in fear from a predator. I’ve listened to them chattering from a tree, scolding me for invading their territory, and have watched them chase each other up and down tree trunks during mating season, leaping great distances in the process.
Just this morning, the seed bowl once again provided breakfast for one of these hapless creatures. This time, however, he (or she) had to work for its meal by lifting the layer of ice that had formed during the night and chewing through it to get at the seed. It was somehow still able to single out from that mess the few sunflower seeds that were still whole, and it did not let the ice deter it from its meal.
I seem to have arrived at the only possible compromise possible with squirrels, short of spending a small fortune in fancy so-called squirrel-proof feeders that more often than not don’t live up to their reputations. If their visits become too frequent, I ruin their day by putting out cheap small seed in which they’re simply not interested. This discourages them for a few days, allowing me to put out good seed, which immediately attracts the birds that, if I didn’t know any better, seemed to be waiting for that moment.
Then, when the squirrels are once again on to me, I just let them decimate what’s left of the good stuff and start over. This way, I manage to feed the birds sometimes and the squirrels at other times. I’d be hard-pressed to put this all down on paper into some sort of workable plan, for it’s more a question of staying ahead of the game than anything.
But in the end, despite all the finagling and sighing on my end, both birds and squirrels always seem to eat and eat well. I doubt it gets any better than this.
— Rachel Lovejoy, a freelance writer living in Lyman, who enjoys exploring the woods of southern Maine, can be reached via email at rachell1950@yahoo.com.
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