The Squirrel Wars

The American West has seen a number of bitter feuds over the years. The Hatfields and the McCoys, the cowboys and the Indians, the Broncos (yay) and the Raiders (boo), but none so fierce, so bitter and so relentless as the battle being played out in my own back yard right now.

Man versus Squirrel.

I had run ins with them before; most notably when a herd took up residence in our roof (See Our Wild Life in the Mountains), but for the last few years we’ve been able to live in peace. In fact, since moving into this odd little house in the woods, I’ve very much enjoyed their presence. Standing at the window; watching their antics has passed many a happy minute or thirty when I’m supposed to be working. The Dynamic Duo of Dogdom tend to take a less pacifistic approach, usually trying to eat through the glass door whenever one appears but for the most part, I’ve been more than content to have squirrels as neighbors.

Until one of them figured out how to get into the bird-feeders that is.

We have half a dozen or so bird feeders hanging from various trees around the yard and a good portion of my income goes to keeping them filled. But, it’s worth it because woodpeckers, nuthatches, chickadees and grosbeaks are among the daily visitors to the yard. This is in addition to the hummingbirds that take advantage of the sugar-water we put out through the summer.

A couple of the feeders are “squirrel-proof” in that they close by means of a spring whenever anything heavier than a magpie lands on them. Which is fine but the birds’ favorite feeder is an ugly big green plastic thing, which holds about ¼ of a ton of feed. This one always saw the most activity and despite being the largest of the collection, required re-filling every few days.

Even more so once Tufty the Squirrel figured out he could climb down, sit on its roof and scoop the seed up with his paws.

That was bad enough but the little bugger spilled more than he ate and as the neighbors’ free-range cats discourage birds from eating off the ground, it was largely going to waste. I’d lobbed a few pine cones up at him, but that only caused him to run away, chattering dismissively and by the time I was back in the house, he was once more at the trough. Round 1 to him. Desperate measures were called for.

Dear Wife came home with a big, clear plastic dome designed to sit above the feeder and prevent assault from above. That was duly installed and it only took the birds two or three days to overcome their fear of it and start eating again. As for the squirrel; it barely slowed him down at all. He soon figured out that rather than climbing down to the feeder, he could just leap onto it from the tree trunk, spilling yet more seed in the process. Round 2 to him.

But, I finally beat him the next time. I strung a length of rope from one tree to another and hung the feeder from the middle. Hah! Even though he can do a balancing act on the rope itself, he can’t climb down to the feeder and our avian friends get the seed to themselves. Round 3 to me.

So then he moved onto the suet feeder.

This is a cage like doohickey into which we put slabs of seed filled suet. The birds in turn peck at it through the bars. Tufty on the other hand, simply hangs off the branch by his back legs and hauls handfuls out with his front paws. I could take the same approach and sling a rope between two trees, but it currently sits in front of the window of my home office, and the rope trick would involve moving it to a position less convenient for viewing. What to do, what to do, what to do.

I’m a pretty fair marksman with a slingshot as the well-aerated photos of G.W. Bush that I use for target practice will show. Still, I didn’t want to kill the little guy, or even injure him so the ½ inch marbles I usually use weren’t practical. I’d already established that pine cones aren’t suitably aerodynamic so I had to experiment a little before hitting on the ideal ammunition.

A bite of carrot, around thumbnail sized will fly straight and true for a good thirty feet or so, but without enough velocity to cause serious damage should I accidentally hit the target. I believe many police forces use carrot pieces for riot control, or if they don’t, perhaps they should.

A few well placed zingers around his head and my squirrel friend was soon scampering off to the neighbors’ yard. Ha ha ha ha! We’ll see who’s boss of this backyard yet. Well, it’s him apparently. The little sod figured out that I wasn’t aiming to hit and within three days he would sit blithely hoovering up the suet while I fired shot after shot within an inch or two of his head. A week on and he doesn’t even do me the courtesy of flinching. Round 4 to him.

I wonder how he would react to a blast of 1oz shot fired at close range from a 12 gauge? Round 5 could get reeeeeeeeelly interesting.

Now, where’s that Redneck Recipe book?