They’ve done it again.
Those pesky squirrels have now started to gnaw around the sides of the industrial strength mesh I’d found for the bird feeder. Pointy bits of metal began to stick out from the wood and I was worried about damage to small birds’ eyes. I’ve pushed them back in as best I can. But until it can be properly reinforced, the feeder will need defending.
It has to be said, it was not our finest hour.
A pair of squirrels have taken to working the bird table together. Mike decided that co-ordinated action was required. A sort of pincer movement. Timing was critical. The squirrels have figured out exactly how long it takes us to get from the kitchen, through the back lobby, out on to the path and into operational range. They nibble away until the last possible second before leaping off the feeder and into a yew bush located conveniently close to hand. Or paw.
The strategy went something like this: Mike was to run out of the front door with a large jug of water. I was to follow, out of the kitchen door, with the water pistol.
Unfortunately I discovered the flaw in the plan a split second too late. As I burst out of the kitchen door weapon raised FBI style I realised that both of the squirrels, disturbed by Mike’s exit, were now heading straight for me.. They swerved off in opposite directions.. Mike’s water, of course, did not. All two litres of it hit me squarely in the chest. The situation deteriorated rapidly. I still held in my hands the fully charged pistol. And Mike was in range. When we got back indoors via our respective routes we were both dripping water on the kitchen floor, although me rather more than him.
No prizes for guessing we will NOT be trying that again.
As far as I know the squirrels escaped entirely unscathed. The thought I cannot shake off is the imagined sight of them, rolling about on the ground underneath the rhododendrons, having to hold on to their sides because they are laughing so much.