The Ant and the Grasshopper

All winter long, squirrels battle the elements. They are tough like the mailman. It doesn’t matter if it’s snowing like crazy…

or there’s a 40-degrees-below-zero windchill…

They are in the thick of it, scrounging for food and trying to stay alive.

Meanwhile, chipmunks spend their entire winter snoozing and snacking in a warm burrow. They avoid the snow and ice and frigid temperatures. They emerge all fat and sassy in March once all the bad weather has passed.  Much to the chagrin of the squirrels, the chipmunks immediately vacuum up every nut and seed they can find.

I bet squirrels really hate chipmunks.

The Peanut King

Because it’s been so frigid, I was starting to feel a little sorry for my sworn enemies, the squirrels. I got tired of watching them scrounge under the feeders for any seeds dropped by messy Mourning Doves. I braved the chill to set out a few piles of peanuts for the beasts. Little did I know I was creating a monster.

Meet the Peanut King:

The Peanut King didn’t care that I purposely spaced the piles of peanuts over 10 feet apart from another to promote sharing. Finders, keepers! He chased anything with fur or feathers that dared to enter the vicinity.

This went on for hours. Unfortunately he was so busy lording over all the other creatures in order to maintain his power that I’m not sure he actually ever enjoyed any of the spoils.

Fierce!

You may have squirrels in your backyard, but I’ll bet they aren’t fancy like mine. My squirrels are on the cutting edge of fashion. Check out this “taildo”:

This style is going to take the country by storm. You just wait and see.

It withstands blizzards, freezing rain and downpours without the use of styling products.

It’s perfect for the gentleman or lady on the go:

Dozens of Jobs Saved or Created

Some of the snow has melted, but there’s still no sign of my favorite shovel. The good news is I’ve finally found a use for the neighborhood squirrels. I’ve hired them to dig for my beloved shovel. I’m offering a can of unsalted peanuts to the first beast that finds it.

They work very slowly, but it beats waiting until spring.

Hearing Protection Required

Assemble 200 preschoolers and hand out small packages of saltines. Then instruct them to open and eat them together on the count of three. Imagine the sound.  Crinkle, crinkle, crinkle! Crunch, crunch, crunch! That’s what it sounds like in my front yard these days. But it’s not cracker-munching kids making a racket, it’s squirrels.

Our neighbors have a Blue Spruce that’s growing into the branches of a Shagbark Hickory tree right next to our driveway. The squirrels are building a winter nest in the spruce using the crunchy dried-up leaves of the hickory.

I thought it was just one squirrel, but once I got my camera out and started shooting, I realized one squirrel was gathering the leaves while the other stayed in the nest and rustled and crunched them into position. Then they switched jobs.

It must be an upscale nest because they’ve been working on it for well over a week already. When you step outside, you can’t help but laugh. Is someone in the tree wrapping presents with cellophane?

Back and forth they ran, shoving as many leaves as they could into their tiny mouths and scampering back to the nest.

There was an obvious downside to that method, however.  One of the squirrels was repeatedly distracted by dried leaf bits stuck to his tongue. Perhaps it was time for a new strategy.

Usually when squirrels are in a tree, they pay no attention to what I’m doing on the ground, but this pair was particularly paranoid. One of the beasts spotted me and we had a 60-second stare-down. He didn’t budge until I went back into the house:

I watched from the living room window as they cautiously searched for more onlookers. Once the commotion started again, I slipped back outside.

During the short time I was in the house, the squirrels must have had a meeting to discuss the operation. They decided that cramming leaves into their mouths was too messy, and it was much simpler to gnaw off the tree branches with the leaves still intact.

My stealth mode could definitely use some work. I was detected again and all action ground to a halt:

I decided to let them construct their castle in peace, but not before sneaking one last photo:

Maybe Squirrels Aren’t So Bad After All…

The other day a Red-tailed hawk landed on the power pole in the corner of our yard and started a critter frenzy. Every chipmunk, squirrel and bird began chipping, squawking and peeping as loud as they could to alert everyone that there was major danger in the area. Eventually the hawk realized he wasn’t going to get an easy meal and flew off.

The neighborhood became quiet again with the exception of one obnoxious grackle that kept on squawking. Even with all the windows closed I could hear him as loudly as if I was standing outside under the tree. He was shrieking his fool heart out. After about 3 more minutes of noise, I couldn’t take it anymore and decide to go outside and encourage him to take the show elsewhere.

As I stood up and grabbed my jacket, I noticed a squirrel slowly skulking up the tree trunk. I was intrigued. He kept inching closer and closer to the grackle. Without warning, the squirrel launched into the air toward the grackle with chubby arms outstretched. You could almost hear him screaming “ENOUGH ALREADY!”  The startled bird flew straight up in the air to dodge the attack, bounced back on a branch and flew off.  Problem solved.

Suddenly I have a new appreciation for squirrels.

I Didn’t Hear Anything…

Picture, if you will, sitting in your house while someone hovers over it in a construction crane.  At random intervals—day or night—they hurl marbles onto your roof that bang and pop and roll down the shingles and bounce onto the gutters, the downspouts, the patio furniture or anything else that makes a heck of a lot of noise. It would be a little unnerving, wouldn’t it? Welcome to my world for the last two weeks. Instead of marbles, I’m being assaulted by acorns and hickory nuts.

At first it was just the squirrels. Because they have paws (mitts? hands?) they tend to drop only a few acorns here and there as they busily stuff their faces. Although, a tree full of squirrels each dropping the occasional nut is still very noisy.

It wasn’t until the grackle flocks arrived that things turned ugly. I wasn’t aware that grackles had beaks strong enough to tackle acorns (maybe they aren’t aware either), but whether or not they can actually eat the acorns, they are plucking them from the trees by the hundreds and sloppily dropping them everywhere. The moment they arrive it sounds like a violent hailstorm. The constant clunking and popping can last for up to 3 minutes.

After two weeks, I’m surprised there are any nuts left in the trees, yet they keep dropping. I used to jump in my seat whenever a nut hit a downspout or the neighbor’s glass patio table, but now I’m pretty immune. When startled visitors shriek “What was THAT???” My reply is simply “What was what?”

Chillin’ the Spare Tire

We’ve only made it into the 70s a thimbleful of times this spring, yet there seems to be an epidemic of hot squirrel bellies in the neighborhood.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve looked out the window and spotted one of the beasts cooling his undersides on my raised bed pavers.

If we have a hot summer, I may have to invest in little lounge tables and hire some chipmunks to serve umbrella drinks.

Searching for Pocket Change

A Very Popular Planter

My husband built me a beautiful lattice planter last spring that we placed in front of the window in my office. Air can still flow freely through the window when I open it, but the neighbors can’t peer at me from their nearby patio. I love it.

I never imagined it would become so popular with the bird-and-beast crowd.  Within days of putting the planter in place, a chipmunk built a home underneath it.

In midsummer it was the crash site of the lost homing pigeon:

The Chickadees think it’s a great place from which to take off and land as they fly around the roof gutters looking for insects:

And every once in awhile I look up at the top of the window and see something staring at me:

I could do without that.