A Bushy Tale - A Story From My Ma

A gentleman had written to a daily paper about his meat-eating habits that didn’t cost him anything as he collected, cooked and ate road-kill. Not something I’ve ever done but it was his mention of squirrel tasting like bacon that had me thinking about our recent difficulties. Yes, squirrels!

Cheeky seed thief

Now I know lots of people think of them as tree rats but, and I’m almost ashamed to say, the bushy tail has me thinking otherwise………..so cute…………. and husband and I do quite enjoy watching their acrobatic displays in the garden. Ooh, the cheeky little imps, how clever they are. But not when swinging from our birdfeeders! For crying out loud we can’t afford to feed the birds, the squirrels, the dog, ourselves, Tom, Dick, Harry and any other bod that wonders in with a fancy for a bite to eat.  Hrrumph even the mice have been known to help themselves from the sack of seeds when someone has forgotten to close it!  Indeed, they had the cheek to let us see them before doing a runner. 

The birds used to flock to the feeder until, having worked out how to reach it, Mr and Mrs Squirrel - and for all we know their sons and daughters, aunts, uncles, cousins and all and sundry that appeared to be invited - started to come to the what was fast turning out to be a garden party to rival the Queen’s regular gatherings. Open house, open all hours seems to have become the rule. Now the birds hardly ever call because there is either no room or no food left at the inn!

So what to do? Send out the dog?  Nah, wouldn’t work.  She’s not much bigger than a squirrel and she couldn’t even fit a squirrel’s nuts in her tiny mouth. Even some old hazelnuts thrown into the field in an attempt to mislead failed abysmally. Oh what fools we are.

The Dog Bo, shes only little!

However, that well-known technically difficult trick of opening and banging shut the window worked well for a while, though not easy as the said window is in a particularly awkward place to reach and standing guard from morning to night was doing absolutely nothing for my equilibrium, nothing for my poor overworked arms and even less for my old gammy, sciatic-killing leg. But surprise, surprise it wasn’t long before this monotonous arm stretching for just a few of visits had increased because of The Squirrel Family’s steely determination to create a permanent squat.

Obviously, it was time for some seriously drastic action so we bought two squirrel-proof feeders, one for fat balls and one for the seed. We couldn’t wait for this new start in our little garden (haha, and life). Would the The Squirrel Family be deterred? 

Well yeh, for all of two days. They learnt to swing the feeder while clinging to the pole with their back claws. Aargh, the cheeky little imps, how clever they are! 

SO WHAT TO DO? Grease the pole, that’s what!  And I did. I used my best extra virgin olive oil giving it a good all over coating. Oh how I laughed and laughed when Mrs Squirrel attempted to climb it. No chance. “Get a grip, darlin’” , I said, covering my mouth with my hand and trying not to smirk. So she climbed the beautiful acer (golden ??) and promptly slipped down and here perhaps I should state no harm was done in this exercise. But oh how we laughed and laughed. In fact it was one big laugh. For all of three days.

What happened? Yes, you’re right, The Squirrel Family solved the, or I should say their problem, by jumping from the acer tree onto the top of the pole and wrapping their back legs around the other feeder. Right, now I’m going to move the fat ball feeder and re-oil the pole. Let’s see if that works because if it doesn’t I’m certainly not going to chop my acer down.

So, whilst I’d rather eat pig……………………………………………………………