The feeder, put back together, filled with seed and hung. soon, I suppose, to be found by tree rats …
Over time, I’ve come to dislike squirrels. Not really hate them. But mildly dislike them.
Sure, they are cute. But they are basically tree rats, and they act the part. They dig in the garden with their nasty rat paws and eat the bulbs I plant for sprint flowers, for example. Granted, their digging is pretty minor—I would much rather watch a dozen squirrels in the backyard than see one rabbits.
Rabbits are evil.
Still, squirrels are like little raccoons. They are agile, aggressive and have little nasty hands that they can use, along with their rodent teeth, to wreak havoc.
Oh well. I do admit that I enjoy watching “chippy” enough that most of the time I’m willing to leave the tree rats unmolested. Besides, they are a good food source for owls, hawks and eagles.
But I wish they would leave my bird feeders alone.
Yes, I know, they are hungry wild things, too, and there are no property rights in the backyard. Whatever animal gets there first gets the food. But birds, messy as they get, just eat the seeds.
Case in point—the current bird feeders I use. I’ve experimented over the years with several different kinds. Plastic ones are a thing of the past, as rodent dentation beats dead dinosaur compounds. (Is there some new version of paper-scissors-rock there? Plastic, squirrel teeth—what?). I have wasted my earthly treasures on fancy metal “squirrel proof” feeders with spring-loaded features that are supposed to allow small dinosaurs in while denying entry to arboreal mammals.
The squirrels don’t care about the springs and pried the lids off of those feeders.
So now I have two feeders. Neither is “squirrel proof” in the sense that tree rats can’t eat from them, but both are of durable metal construction and at least aren’t chewed up by those rodents.
Then, some big, tough mamma squirrel appeared this winter. I don’t know for sure if she is “she,” she just looks like a mean mama to me. She’s large, she’s mostly indifferent to naked apes and she is amazingly dexterous.
Late in December 2016, I found some parts of my red metal feeder, one of two seed feeders I use along with two suet feeder “cages” that I have to wire shut, on the ground. The pieces of that feeder are held together by basically a big wing nut that holds the metal hoop by which I hang the feeder.
Someone or something had unscrewed that lid and emptied the feeder—plus it (or she, as I think of her—am I feeling a bit oppressed as the only boy in a family of seven?) had unscrewed and disposed of or lost the top of the feeder.
I didn’t have a lot of time to devote to searching for that smaller piece In fact, I shouldn’t be writing this blog post right now, as I have work to do. But I looked for that top every time I filled the other feeder.
Birds. I waited in the lower yard for about three minutes on Sunday, and this crowd quickly showed up. This is my other seed feeder, which has not been taken apart.
Then, just by accident this weekend, I found the missing feeder top in the yard. The good news is that the metal construction of the feeder proved durable. While completely taken apart by, I presume, a vandal tree she Hun (there, I’ve accused her of being a simultaneous member of two different barbarian tribes—I like her that much), the parts of the feeder were fine.
I filled it again with seed. And I screwed the lid on extra tight this time. It may take her a few days to undo my work.
But she probably will.