For many years, we had a small ship’s bell attached to the front wall of our cabin. We used it to summon each other for phone calls, meals, or emergencies. Some people even used it as a doorbell. It corroded over time, until the clapper ceased up, then broke. Since that happened, I’ve kept an eye out for a nice old-fashioned dinner triangle to replace it.
The new triangle (Photo: Mark A. Zeiger).
The homestead really quieted down squirrel-wise after the power struggles earlier in the year, as a new dominant female claimed our territory as her own (see Anarchy in Squirrel Land). I hadn’t seen the squirrel at all for weeks, so Michelle surprised me one day when she calmly mentioned that I should kill it.
She judged our squirrel to be pregnant, and wanted to avoid a new brood of squirrels raiding the strawberry patch later in the summer (see “Mess With Our Strawberries, and I’ll Go “Farmer McGregor” on Your Ass!).
I questioned the wisdom of such a move. Obviously, our current squirrel is well mannered, unobtrusive, not particularly destructive. If she does give birth, she’d likely run her brood off the property after they reached the proper age. Things would get interesting for a while, then quiet down again, wouldn’t they?
Then, we caught her in the act.
Michelle called me to the window, and pointed out one of our hummingbird feeders, where our squirrel drank long and greedily of the sugar water.
Red squirrel, caught red handed at the hummingbird feeder (Photo: Mark A. Zeiger).
It appears she has a sweet tooth! That means she’s likely to raid the strawberry patch. We can’t have that.
So, I loaded the pellet guns, the blow gun is handy, and I’m watching for my opportunity. At least I don’t have to consider putting out bait to attract her . . . .
