Talking to Squirrels

I have given up trying to discourage the squirrels from my bird feeder. They are simply too smart for me and the manufacturers of ‘squirrel-proof’ feeders. Actually, the little rodents are quite entertaining once you get to know them. I have even given them names, although like most pets with names, they pay little attention to human labels.

The two black squirrels are Paul and Stephen. I suspect there are more than two of the black ones, but since they all look alike, they get to share the names. They most likely came from separate gene pools as the one group are more sociable than the other family line. Paul’s family are more likely to take the seeds or peanuts and hide them away, while Stephen’s family tend take a seed, run up a tree, eat it and come back for more. The two families will spar with each other but do get along when the weather gets cold.

I have one grey squirrel, Gilles, who appears only when the peanuts are out, not when the sunflowers seeds are the snack of the day. How Gilles knows when the peanuts are out, I do not know, unless it is the squawking of the blue jays announcing food at the feeders. Gilles, the grey fox squirrel, is by far the best looking of the squirrels, always neatly coiffed, no matter that he must jump over the creek separating our property from the neighbour on the east. Gilles will stop to eat a peanut while I talk to him but he always takes one home with him.

Then there is my little fireball of a red squirrel. At this time of year, he only comes out when the sun shines like a TV camera light through the trees. He is by far the most vocal of all the squirrels. Jack is also the most aggressive. He is a little temperamental, some days sharing the food with the black squirrels, other days chasing them away from the food. Even though Jack is smaller than the black squirrels, they seem to be afraid of him. I think it is mostly bluff, because when Gilles is on site, he and Jack will tolerate each other. Actually, Gilles, the larger grey squirrel just ignores the chatterings of Jack.

At this time of year, the chippies have gone to bed, unaware of the events unfolding around the feeders. In the summer, they are busy burying seeds and even planting peanuts in some environmental frenzy that goes from sunrise to sunset. Because of their acrobatics, I simply call them all Gym. It is interesting how the squirrels ignore Gym even though he is stealing their seeds. I suppose they think the little amount he takes will make no difference as long as I keep refilling the feeders.

The discussion around the feeder this morning focussed on the economic values of lowering the GST or giving tax cuts to businesses. It seems to depend on where one perches on the tax tree. Stephen seems to favour giving the breaks to the squirrels on the lower branches. They are the ones who make the most trips up and down the tree, grabbing little bites whenever they can find them. Paul, on the other hand, says that those at the top of tree deserve the break since they take all the risks of climbing to the top where there is more danger from hawks.

Jack seemed to have no opinion on the matter. He was watching the cars on the street, perhaps wondering if a cut in taxes would bring more of the dangerous behemoths onto the roadways. I think he was more concerned about health care and safety as he recently lost a family member on the roadway.

Gilles, the grey squirrel, seemed to be worried about any tax cuts as he thought they might affect my ability to buy peanuts for him. He left early, saying he had to do some scouting for some kind of a special team he was putting together. I thought he said hockey, but I must have misunderstood as I sometimes have trouble translating his chatter.

I suggested that tomorrow we would be discussing the same sex marriage thing again. All I got was blank looks from all the squirrels. A chickadee must have overheard me because I got a good scolding from three of them. Stephen wanted to do the Gomery thing again, but the last time we did that topic, we had to fight off a flock of rock doves. (The rock doves will flee the feeder as soon as you shout ‘Bird Flu!’) Maybe we will do health care tomorrow.