Talking to Squirrels ..

Monday morning I was at first shocked to see Paul, one of my black squirrels, standing on his back legs pointing to his chest. When I saw the red patch I thought he had been wounded in a scrap or a tumble from a limb. On inquiry, he puffed out his chest so I could see more clearly. It was the CAW patch that one of Jack’s friends had given him. His cousin, Stephen, had turned his back on him and was chatting to Gilles, the grey squirrel. I gathered from their conversation that they thought Paul would do anything for a vote.

Stephen was telling Gilles about his plan to get tough on drug dealers, a plan he had outlined when he was over on the west side of the property. There is a flowering crab apple tree just over the property line which is presently attracting a number of squirrels who seem to be getting along without any squabbling. One grey squirrel seems to be promoting the curative effects of the fermenting apples to the others. Stephen assured Gilles that apple cider would not come under his new Drug Enforcement policy.

Jack, the red squirrel, was perched on the top of a spruce tree, trying to attract an audience for his talk on public health care. Two plump pigeons on the hydro wire seemed interested, but they were his only listeners that morning. The consensus among the birds was that health care was an issue for the province, not the squirrels.

Tuesday, the talk at the squirrel feeder was all about Child Care, each of the main squirrels trying to out-do the other with promises that were no more likely to be kept than those from the last election were. Paul noted that there was a new batch of children every year, so the new parents were targets for this campaign promise. Stephen and Jack agreed, but Gilles said they had their own childcare policy in his bailiwick.

Wednesday morning it was -15 degrees and the squirrels stayed in their nests until almost nine o’clock. Jack, the red squirrel, was even later. He had been over to the east side, testing the ‘waters’ for the debate next week. Jack told me that they were not very hospitable, saying that he was an alien, even though his family used to live in the white pine park before it was cut down to make room for another people house. He confidentially opined that if those squirrels would get out a little more, they would see that they were not that different from the rest of the squirrels.

Thursday morning would have been a good time to do the annual bird count, as there were woodpeckers, chickadees, nuthatches, finches, blue jays and rock doves vying for food with the squirrels. If I have to feed this lot all winter long, I will need that reduction in the GST. There were about nine squirrels eating and talking loudly about Paul’s taunting of the Eagle about Kyoto when a blue jay gave a loud shriek, “Eagle, Eagle!” and everybody scrambled for cover. The rock doves, as my wife calls the pigeons, took off in a real panic, a grey-blue Merlin hot on their tails.

One grey squirrel had run between my legs and into the open door of the house and it took a little while to coax him back outside. I assured him that although it did indeed look like an American F-15 Eagle, it was only a Merlin after the pigeons. The squirrel finally left, taking a peanut for a snack, but not before he said that Paul should learn to curb his tongue before we did have real eagles at the feeder.

Friday it was all about the hand guns. Paul’s announcement that his party would be looking to enforce the present gun laws brought guffaws (a squirrel guffaw is a series of tongue-clicking noises) from the other squirrels. Paul did say that he would seek stiffer terms for people committing criminal acts with a gun. Stephen, the other black squirrel, wondered what had happened to the infamous Gun Registry. Jack said he thought that making gun collectors join target pistol clubs would only added more bureaucracy to the Registry. Gilles was more concerned about what this would do to stop little Johnny down the street who had asked Santa for a Daisy Red Ryder Bee Bee gun.

The squirrels left the feeder, promising not to make any major announcements over the weekend. They were all going to cram for the debates next week. I said I would put the feed out as usual. I then jokingly yelled. “Eagle!” but they that the joke was in poor taste and ignored me.