Talking to Squirrels (week 7)

Although I missed them again, the redpolls had been around on the weekend. The word Monday morning was that Stephen’s tribe was pulling ahead in the popularity contest. Halfway through the first morning feeding, Paul called a meeting of his workers and they retired to the top of a maple tree just over the creek. I thought they might be preparing for the debate Monday and Tuesday, but once of the younger squirrels who came back for another snack, said they were working on some new advertisements.

Jack, the red squirrel, was practising saying Vote for Me, using many different vocal inflections to find the best way to say the same thing over and over. There had been no talk of any new policies from the leaders so I expected their debate to be boring again.

Tuesday morning, my naïve young black squirrel who seems to be paying close attention to the election, came with another question. What, she asked, was the ‘not without standing clause’? It took me a moment to remember this old acorn, but I said it was like a meeting where all the head squirrels could not agree on an issue. If one of them wanted out of a deal, say like the Cat Warning System, they could opt out using the notwithstanding claws. She thought the pun was poor, but corrected me that it was the ‘not without standing’ and not ‘notwithstanding’ since one could not leave a meeting without standing up first. That made as much sense to me as Paul bringing up the issue in the first place. Was he really trying to upset Gilles or baiting Stephen?

Wednesday morning, the downy woodpecker asked if I had seen the new ad the squirrels had made in the snow up behind the shed. By the time I got my boots on and up to the shed, the rain had blurred the message so I could not read it. I had to break up two squabbles at the feeder by offering extra peanuts. The food seemed to calm things for a while, but everyone seemed intent on attacking each other. I checked the compost bin to see if the squirrels had been into the coffee grounds again, but that seemed not to be the case.

Thursday, I and everyone else around the feeders, was surprised to see Green party leader, Gym the chipmunk, pop up through the snow. I guess the 4-degree weather must have encouraged him to come out because I know for a fact that he stored enough peanuts and seeds to last the whole winter. Gym jumped up on the cement birdbath and chatted away for a full minute. Somehow, he had been getting the election news in his underground burrow ( I suspect a mole) and he wanted to make a pitch to the birds to vote for him. He admitted that he had no chance of winning, but apparently the funding for the next election is based on the number of votes a party gets in the past election. I overheard two nuthatches saying this was a great solution for them as they could not decide on Paul, Stephen or Jack.

Ten pigeons arrived to tell everyone that they had attended a local meeting where the candidates had all supported more subsidy for farmers. This news received the approval of everyone, as they all thought there should be more planting of seeds and bulbs in the area. I was nodding my head in agreement when I realized that they we talking about me, the farmer, planting more food for them. What form, I wondered, would the subsidy take: more birdsong in the morning?

Thursday afternoon when I returned from shopping, there was only one chickadee at the feeder. Since there is usually a crowd at the two pm feeding, I inquired where everyone was. The bird repeated several times ‘red book, blue book’ and I finally realized that the parties had released their promises, or rather, policies.

Friday morning just after sunrise is usually a busy time at the feeders. It was suspiciously quiet so I pulled on a sweater and went outside. Sitting on a limb just above the sunflower feeder was the answer for the inactivity – a small Boreal owl. About he size of a saw whet owl, this little member of the hooters is not much of a threat to squirrels or even birds, preferring mice, shrews and moles. I said good morning in the off chance that it spoke the local dialect. It said whoo, so I introduced myself and asked from whence it came.

It was down from the University where it was taking Philosophy 101. It was looking for mice, but had not seen any around my feeding station. I explained there was a feral cat that kept the area mouse population near zero. I asked if it had heard about the election, and affirming that the owl had indeed, I asked what it thought of the policy books released this week. The bird gave me what I suppose was a philosophical nod, blinked its wise eyes and quoted a well-known poet: “Political promises are like those of a woman in love: they are written on the wind, on running water.”

The little owl flew off and the squirrels, nuthatches, finches and chickadees soon appeared. Everyone seemed intent on eating quickly in case the owl came back. Looking out the window, I saw two red squirrels nip the ends off a balsam branch and then begin to run around with the pieces in their mouths. The rock doves began cooing and laughing at them so I went outside to see what this was about. It seemed a little early to be nesting. The old black squirrel laughed and said they were playing soldiers, using the green pieces as camouflage. Paul and Stephen were off campaigning somewhere but I suspect neither of them would have found this amusing.

I was crawling around in the storage space looking for my grandson’s toy drum so I could join the fun when my wife caught me and told me to grow up! I was pretty sure she was not voting Liberal this time, but after more than 40 years of marriage, I still never knew for certain how she voted. Maybe it is a good thing we have secret ballots.