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Sunday, May 13, 2012

Feeder Fever (starve a cold)

When we moved into our current home I was delighted to see that it was set among the trees. It has no yard to speak of just a lot of rock and trees. It does however have a marvelous big deck. The deck is our yard. We use it a lot. I like to BBQ out there all year around. Mind you we don’t often lounge out there and read when it is forty below. I have; in the past had bird feeders on my property. My last location was not favorable for them, there being no trees close by to shelter the little fellows. But this new place was perfect; so I bought a few and filled them up and waited; and waited and waited and waited… Nothing. I searched the internet and all the sites said the same thing. Wait and they will come. Build it and they will come I kept thinking. At first I checked them every chance I got. Then just in the morning and at night. Finally, months after setting up the first feeder I saw a lone bird on the perch and then gradually more and more. Soon the trees around my place began to come alive with twittering and chattering. I began to sit on the deck with my coffee in my hand rain or shine. I loved the sound of the birds they were like to heartbeat of the forest. Now some of my birder friends are a bit snobbish. They love the feathered friends that visit their feeders but look down with disgust on their furry brethren. I draw no such distinction. “You can get hoods.” One particularly close minded bird fancier once told me. “Hoods?” I replied amazed. My mind raced I saw people going out to bird feeders in white robes with hoods on; a KKK of bird fanciers and kind of Avian Brotherhood. “For the feeders!” She said.” Goes on the wire they hang from keeps the Damn Squirrels out!” She sneered. “Damned rodents!” At the time I had almost a dozen feeding stations, a couple specifically designed for squirrels. I had a pair of chipmunks I had named Chip and Dale. I assumed they were a couple. Chip was bold as brass and Dale was shy. Chip would come up to me and take a sunflower seed from my hand and Dale would watch from the shelter of a log in the wall of my log house. I even had flying squirrels. I assume I had been feeding them for a long time and never knew it. The days are long in the arctic summer and the sun never sets. The flying squirrels are nocturnal and I don’t know when they feed in the arctic day when the sun never sets. But that summer I had installed motion lights on my deck and one evening the motion light came on and I watched amazed as a flying squirrel gracefully glided to one of my feeders and made a three or four point landing with amazing grace. They don’t actually fly; of course, they glide and do so beautifully. He took a cheek pouch full of seeds and glided to the ground and then scampered up a tree to repeat the process to my absolute delight. The flying squirrel has fur that is like a cat; very soft and silky not as course as his muddy footed cousin in the vermin infantry. His eyes are bulgy; I suppose for seeing in the dark. Being nocturnal they need that advantage. I was delighted at the range of four footed fellows that frequented my feeders (pardon the alliteration). I soon noted different characteristics in different animals. The squirrels and chipmunks seemed to travel in pairs. Mated pairs I have always assumed. S o I was delighted when I saw numbers of squirrels visiting my feeders here; many, many of them. I have seen seven in my field of view at once so there are a large number of the friendly little fellows. They chatter to me when I approach on frosty spring morning with a bucket of nuts in hand. They wait patiently while I spread some out on the railing and they do not wait for me to leave. They dash about mu feet waiting for the feast. I see them crossing the street in front of our house from my neighbor’s yard. One day Lina said with some pity in her voice. “Aw that little squirrel has no tail.” I looked but as I am legally blind I could not see it at that distance. Several days later; on my day off I was settled into a yellow plastic adirondak chair sipping my morning coffee and watching my breath as I exhaled in the cool morning air. The coffee made my breath even more noticeable. I was savoring a Royal Edinburgh shortbread cookie when I heard a scampering at my feet. I looked down into two chestnut brown eyes ringed by white circles. A squirrel cocked his head at me. I broke off a piece of cookie and set it by the heel of my house slipper. Like a flash he snapped it up and held it in this paws and began to eat it with vigor. I could not help but notice that he had only the tiniest nub of a tail. When he had finished I went to the door and called Lina. “I think your friend is here.” I said. She got down on all fours to sneak a peek around the corner. When her head appeared he scampered towards her not away. He passed inches from her face and grabbed a peanut off the deck and began chewing. “It is him!” Lina exclaimed. Over the next few days he became a regular feature on the deck and was there every time I looked. As I sat in my yellow chair yesterday I said aloud. “I must give you a name.” Lina was sitting beside me. “What do you call a squirrel with half a tail?’ I thought for a moment and a wicked smile crept across my face. “What are you thinking?’ Lina said warily. “I was thinking what else you could call a squirrel with half a tail. Bob!”