Battle Of The Wild
I don't know if we are weird, or if everyone in Massachussettes feels the way we do, but we love birds and we've come to hate squirrels. It all began four years ago when we bought our first bird feeder at Red's Hardware and strategically hung it on a branch on the huge oak just off our screened porch, in full view of our favorite lounging chairs.
That first weekend – it must have been June – our house was new and we took pleasure in sitting on shiny white wicker acquainting ourselves with Yellow Finches and Black-Whiskered Vireos who came to feed on the Wild Bird Mixture that Ward's Nursery guaranteed would please any bird in our woods. Some feathery flyers were strangers and we vowed to buy an Audobon book and develop a greater familiarity with the great variety of birds that visited our neck of the woods.
The following Friday when we returned from the city, and like the rest of you weekend country squires I would guess, we scanned every section of house and woods with admiration and pride. This was our Shangrilla! The cares of the week melted away and my breathing returned to a calm, slow tempo. It lasted until my husband noticed our bird feeder on the ground, emptied of seeds and smashed to pieces. We couldn't figure it out! The branch had seemed sufficiently strong to hold it.
Crazy glue came to the rescue and by the next afternoon, we were once more reclining on our tranquil porch, newly purchased Audobon Society Field Guide to North American Birds in hand, ready to identify and enjoy our forest birds.
Early Sunday morning, while brushing my teeth and lazily gazing out the window, I spied two squirrels making their way down the feeder. They looked like acrobats arching their backs, gingerly holding onto the branch above while dangling their heads, grasping the feeder in their little paws, greedily eating my bird seed. I felt enraged. I felt invaded. I don't quite know where this feeling came from. I hadn't realized that I had a primitive hatred for squirrels and a love for birds. Looking at these little grey monsters, I can see where some would find them cute. But not I.
I yelled at them to shoo! And they did. We then moved the feeder to a smooth part of the trunk, far from any branch. We hung it on a bracket, so thin, that only a sparrow could manage, or so we foolishly thought. Except that the war had already begun, and I didn't know then, that this was the end of round three. Two wins for them and only one for us! We weren't doing so well.
After Red's plain plastic feeder, came Wards Gardening Center’s guaranteed $39.00 squirrel-proof model. It was a long cylinder job, hanging on a chain that they swore kept even the cleverest squirrels at bay. By the end of July the score was four to two. They emptied this model, and within short shrift broke it.
For some reason, I am on every mailing order catalogue list in existence. Going to the post office box is an excercise in discarding unwanted trash. I do enjoy however, looking through the Hammacher Schlemmer catalogue. Did you ever notice how they have "The Best Toaster Oven" or "The Best Flotation Jacket" and they never cost under $300.00. Well, I succumbed to this advertising hype and bought my first "Best." For $69.99 my husband nearly divorced me – I had ordered "The Best Squirrel-Proof Bird Feeder."
I finally understood how competitive I really was. My commitment to win against those squirrels was as intense as their need for my birdfood. By the end of August we dragged home a giant carton from UPS and eagerly unpacked a dome shamed plastic gismo. By the time the leaves turned the squirrels were ahead six to two.
We packed up "The Best Squirrel-Proof Bird Feeder" and returned it to Hammacher's with a nasty letter. They sent us a duplicate - shiny, untouched by squirrel paws. All winter we strategized, and moved the feeder to a variety of locations, after each squirrel invasion. By the following fall, it too had fallen and broken again. The day I was mailing the feeder back to Hammacher's again, with a really nasty letter about false advertisement and the crime of misleading consumers, I found myself venting my frustration to the local handyman who suggested placing a metal or plastic funnel upside down at the chain juncture of the feeder. This seemed like such a brilliant idea that I quickly tore up my really nasty letter to Hamacher's and instead, requested another replacement.
By Springtime I was feeling a great sense of triumph as my husband and I welcomed back Warblers, Finches and Orioles. The score was six to five squirrels, and I was convinced that our funnel would help us to win the war. This feeling of victory and peace continued for some time. We became complacent, free to focus on other interests like golf, and enjoy the multitude of birds that were now part of our forest. Seasonally, different species would come and go.
For many seasons our foe must have been desparately brainstorming. Last winter they got the edge. With the score seven to five squirrels, I composed The Best Nasty Letter From A Consumer and soon got a refund check for $69.99 from Hamacher's. My husband thought we should announce defeat and allow nature to feed our friends.
Just to make life interesting, as an adjunct to our battles with the squirrels, we had an ongoing conflict with our neighbors and sworn enemies, the Raccoons. They did not want our bird seed. Oh No! They wanted our garbage. I don't get it. We have very little garbage. Most of it goes down the sink disposal. Did you know that Hammacher's doesn't sell "The Best Racoon Proof Garbage Pail" but Ames does. They must have had it made at the same place as Hammacher's. The raccoons cracked the trick locks time and time again. My husband, who like all good husbands, has garbage detail, would be busily sweeping and cursing in the driveway each week shortly after upon our arrival.
With the score seventeen to four raccoons winning, we thought that they finally bit the dust, when we built a shed under the stairs last fall. The adjusted score now only seventeen to five left us feeling high and mighty. My husband had no trouble finding other forms of entertainment upon our arrival from the city. This state of ease continued until last week.
We have finally understood that Massachusettes wildlife must be the smartest in the land. Last weekend, having succumbed to Hammacher's latest model of The Best Squirrel-Proof Bird Feeder for a bargain basement price of only $49.99 we were back in the business of bird-watching. We figured Audobon would be proud of us. This model is unique. It stands on a thin rod, in the middle of a clearing, which my husband spent an hour and a half driving into the ground.
Last week we returned to the country and looked forward to a peaceful stretch for the holidays. Upon our arrival, I cried while my husband raved. The empty bird feeder was lying prone. The score was eleven to five squirrels. But then I had a birthday and my oldest son, having heard our bird feeder stories, found a beautiful hand-made birch bird feeder that chimed to scare away the squirrels. As of last night the score is twelve to five squirrels.
Are you ready for the really bad news? The raccoons have racked up a score of eighteen to five. They actually dug a tunnel – heaven knows how long they've been at work – and reached the garbage inside the shed.
But my husband says he's going to build an underground wall to block the tunnel... and he also has a great idea about what kind of feeder we could get next and where to put it. And this time...
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