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The neighbourhood squirrel team has declared war on my bird feeder. Note that...bird feeder. Not squirrel feeder. BIRD feeder. Little creeps. It's astounding what two squirrels can do. They eat about a million times more seed than the little House Finches, they knock the feeder all catawampus (great word), spill seed all over the place and dig around in the window box where an already struggling Danish (as in, from Denmark) Lilly of the Valley clings desperately to life. As if these depredations weren't enough, they add menace and impertinence to their presence. The pair of them are chewed hairless from haunches to head, which creates a punk-thug look. Bad ass squirrels. And when I bang on the window? Nothing. They flinch, maybe, then just look at me. It's as if they're saying, "Yeah, you have the air conditioner on. You're not going to open this window! Boo-yah, punk!" Sybil is no help. He barely notices feeder activity any more, even the Cardinals. For a while he only roused himself to chase them away...the one really unique and pretty bird to show up. (It seems Sybil doesn't get the whole feeder idea.) Now he just looks, over stimulated by a surfeit of birds...and now squirrels. Even when Sybil does jump onto the window ledge, the squirrels don't mind him at all. They stay out of the low window box, but still play acrobat around the swinging feeder, a couple feet above the cat's head. Sybil, pacifist that he is, doesn't even bother to act as if he's trying to get them. He just watches, placid as a couch potato in front of America's Got Talent. (From what I've seen, it does not.) Both cat and squirrel appear to have learned about the protective and preventative qualities of glass. Drat. |
