I am locked in a battle in which there is no hope of success. My foe is craftier, more persistent and patient, and has better manual dexterity than me. For months we have been been testing each other’s resolve, ramping up arms and strategies, trying to outwit our enemy. Property damage has ensued. Physical blows have been exchanged. It is a good thing I do not own a gun, for I would use it against my foe with no remorse.
I am battling squirrels.
Until this summer we had an accommodation. I filled my bird feeders with black sunflower seeds from Audubon. The house finches would fling them hither and yon with abandon until they found a seed they liked. A great mound of seeds and seed shells grew many inches deep under the feeders. The squirrels rooted through this bonanza and left the feeders alone.
Then I switched feed. Shelled sunflower seed chips were more expensive, but there appeared to be no waste. No more piles of half-composted seed amid the small forest of sunflower sprouts under the Lavatera plant. The birds liked them better too. But the squirrels raised a howl of protest.
Soon they were scampering up the poles, wrapping themselves around the tubes, upside-down, and engorging themselves right from the feeders. Chasing them away worked only briefly. Before long I was sneaking up on them, wrapped newapaper in hand, so I could whack them. They learned the sqeak of the screen door, and sneaking didn’t work. The moment I sat again, they’d be back at the feeders. I rose, they fled. I sat, they fed. I think they were amused by the control they had over my movement.
They then learned to fling the feeders themselves off the pole, and lap up the spilled seed. One feeder I found broken on the ground, the bottom missing: a fatal casualty. I hauled out the "squirrel-proof" feeder, the one with the cage around it. They learned to pry off the lid and eat from the tube. When the food got low, they slithered their body down the length of the feeder tube, with only the tail sticking out. Plastic-encased squirrel. Once Robin snuck up on one and yanked the tail. I would have flung the beast high into the air and across the street.
I tried hanging a feeder next to the window, by the cat perch. The cat was very excited for awhile at both bird and squirrel, but soon she ceased to lift her head even when a squirrel passed by inches away. Now they habitually run the length of the windowsill, stop, stare in the house to say, "Hi, thanks for the grub," before leaping to the feeder.
Audubon sells an array of "squirrel-resistant" feeders (note the qualifier) for more than I want to pay. It is almost worth the $80 though to watch the first squirrel step on the motorized whirling feeder. Birds can alight on the feeder just fine. But when the heavier squirrel sets foot, it will spin and fling it off. I have no doubt, however, that it will work only once.
The last bag of sunflower chips is almost gone. I’m switching back to the black oil type; perhaps withdrawing to our borders prior to the war will end hostilites. But I’m afraid it might not. The squirrels look like they’re having too much fun to stop anytime soon.
Consider yourself lucky that you only have squirrels to battle. I have squirrels plus a family of five young raccoons plus mom and maybe dad. Raccoons are stronger and much more destructive. A hummingbird feeder disassembled and licked all over with raccoon spit is quite the mess! I have never seen a "raccoon resistant" feeder.
Posted by: Bruce Nall | November 16, 2005 at 07:20 PM