Conflicts of Interest

Outside my studio window, hanging from a tall pole, is a bird feeder, 

with baffles above it to repel squirrels, and a lid that twists to close. 

When the red squirrels found a way to get by the baffles and twist the lid open, 

we added bungee cords to thwart them, and it worked. 

For a while.

What we didn't anticipate was the new crop of acrobatic gray squirrels 

who are still small enough to squeeze their way through the bars and get at the bird's sunflower seeds.

 One of these days, just like Winnie the Pooh, they're going to eat too much to get out. 

They haven't damaged anything yet, and they are so cute 

that I haven't mentioned it to the hunter in the house. 

Mum's the word.

I suppose there will always be small conflicts of interest when sharing space with another species.

  Frogs make use of the flower pots...

..and deer make themselves comfortable nearby, eating the day lilies and roses. 

Though we like to think of them all as our animals near our house, 

they may well think of us as their humans living in their woods.  

After all, their ancestors were on this hilltop long before the house was built.

The creatures are usually content to stay outside, 

but we've had snakes, a hummingbird, lizards, and frogs in the house, and even a chipmunk.

I awoke one morning to see a chipmunk within arm's reach at the side of the bed. I inhaled sharply and for a split second, we froze, starring at each other. When I bravely held my ground, he catapulted across the room and tucked into a the underside of a cabinet. It was impossible to tell how he squeezed in there, let alone get him out. So we waited.

By bedtime, concerned about the chipmunk's welfare, I put a little water in the bottom of the Jucuzzi along with a few sunflower seed sprouts.  The next morning, most of the sprouts were gone, and what remained was a big mess. I should have set out napkins.

It was dinner time the next day before we saw little creature again, dashing across the kitchen floor. We opened all the doors and backed out of sight.  We're pretty sure he made it out, because that was years ago, and he hasn't been seen inside since.

Just to be on the safe side, we've changed all our locks.

Linking with Saturday's Critters

Of Squirrels and Men

Why do men always think they have to fix things?  Lately, squirrels have been overrunning our bird feeder, while hungry little songbirds wait, high in the trees, hoping there will be some small morsel left for them when the gluttony is over.  In his attempt to right the situation, my husband Don, the fixer in question, has been shooting squirrels.

There, it's out.

When Don was young, he hunted squirrels, in part, to assuage his hunger, but they were hard to clean, and nowadays we have better options for meals.  As much as he hates wasting meat, all it takes to send him running for his gun is to see a fat squirrel hogging the bird feeder. I'm not condoning or condemning this behavior, only relating the facts.

Don tells me in his defense that squirrel season is open, he has his hunting license, and there are hundreds of squirrels on our property.  As he puts it, "since they have abundant crops of acorns, hickory nuts, walnuts, and other squirrel menu items, why should they have to eat the bird seed?  I only shoot the bad guys.  They're the ones that don't stop with eating the bird seed; they're not content until they eat the bird feeder, too. "

Don's slaughter of these defenseless animals has had some unintended consequences. Vultures have started camping out behind our house, fighting over the squirrels, messing up the patio, and cleaning out the shell of a recently diseased snapping turtle (let's not get into how that happened).

  

The other afternoon, while I was working downstairs, I heard a peck on the window and went up to investigate.  There, sitting in the bird feeder, was a black vulture, demanding his squirrel for lunch.

And where were all the songbirds?  Well, naturally, those poor little things were high in the trees, waiting, once again, for a place at the feeder.

The best laid schemes of mice and men often go awry.

Robert Burns






Linking with Wild Birds Wednesday
and Your Sunday Best