I love my critters. We keep 5 feeders on the go. Yes, that isn't a typo. Five. We have a feeder with a corn mix, sunflower seeds, nyjer, and suet. Then we have a larger feeder at the front of our property with more mixed corn and sunflower. During the summer we also put grape jelly out for the oriel and sweet water for the hummingbirds. The wild critters do not go hungry. The birds make a mess and the bunnies come around and dusk for cleanup duties. Life is good...
But there are days. Squirrels are pigs. Pigs, in that that eat, a lot.
I was in the kitchen working on my computer as my husband sat in the next room playing on his.
"The squirrel is back," he informed me.
He'd got up a couple times to tap on the window and 'encourage' the squirrel leave.
Glancing up, I can see the feeders from my chair.
The lovely, chunky critter was on the sunflower feeder, filling his cheeks his bulging cheeks to capacity. I'm certain he has enough body fat the survive our winter, when it comes. Now, I admit, it takes a bit of work for the little darling to get to the feeders. He has to climb inside a Christmas tree hedge, get to the half way point and then jump to the feeder to avoid the cone shaped apparatus that we have designed to stop the four legged critters. Obviously our engineering wasn't overly successful.
I rose from my chair, walk down the three steps to the sunken living room and head for the window. Using my fingers, I tap on the window. The little brat just stopped and looked at me. I could almost hear his little mind at work.
"Agh, you're harmless."
He continued stuffing his wee face.
"Ugh," I groaned.
I opened the window and clapped my hand.
The little fellow changed his position, able to keep a better eye on me, but he had no intention of getting down.
"Ba-ad squirrel," I lectured. "Ba-ad squirrel."
The dog looked up from her sleeping position on her doggy bed in the kitchen. Hubby chuckled at my pathetic attempt.
"Ba-a-d squirrel," I continued, putting anger into my tone. "You are a ba-ad squirrel."
The little fellow looked at the scowl on my face, turned and jumped down."It worked," I informed my husband with pride. I showed a very pleased with myself smile. "The dog doesn't think much of being called bad either."