Paired-off pine siskins, and the habits of squirrels

As the weather warms up, activity in my little patch of garden out back does, too. A robin sings out each evening just after sunset, "Cheer-up! Cheer-up!" His song is more frenetic than the ones I remember from last summer; much faster, with few pauses for breath. I wonder, is this characteristic of the mating season? Or just a younger robin, in a hurry?


I discovered a pine siskin* at the chickadee feeder a few weeks back. He was digging steadily into the black sunflower seeds, and alone, instead of flitting back and forth with a flock. I didn't recognize him; I never thought of pine siskins as loners, and instead considered other LBBs, like sparrows and finches.

But yesterday and today, he was back. With a mate. We got a good look at them this time. They're clearly pine siskins. The two of them sat on the perches of that feeder, not minding Laurie and me as we snapped photos from the window a couple of feet away. They did know we were there; the female cocked her head at us for a moment, and went back to the sunflower seeds. Later, they chased each other back and forth through the cedars. Mating behaviour. That may explain their separation from a flock.

I hope they decide to nest close by.
The pair, with the female checking us out. A bit blurry, because the feeder was spinning quite rapidly. The chickadees set it going, popping on and off those perches, and it stays in motion for quite a while. (Which all but one of the juncos find just too off-putting; they hang around on the ground beneath, instead, looking for crumbs. Finches, nuthatches and the siskins, and of course the chickadees, don't seem to mind the acrobatics involved.)

The four-footed residents of this stretch seem limited to squirrels, grey and black, the occasional skunk (smelled, not seen) and, rarely, a mouse. No cats, no dogs, even though it is open to the street at the far end.

So the squirrels are quite at home, with no predators. They collect nesting material, set out for them or not. They drink from the bird bath. They dug up all my expensive crocus bulbs and ate them; they dismantled most of a cone from a big cone pine tree; they tore out my cactus and devoured my succulents. They bury stuff in the soft soil where I just set out seedlings, killing the plants in the process. Occasionally, I will find one on the screened window, making yet another fruitless attempt on that chickadee feeder.

Laurie tries to scare them off sometimes. It never works, but the birds make themselves scarce for a bit. I replant, and put upside-down plant pots on top of my crocuses over the winter. Much good it does me; I got two measly blooms this spring.

And I am still too soft-hearted. When it snowed, I put out extra food for them. I must confess to having occasionally tossed them a peanut or two, just because. (Don't tell Laurie.)

Recently, sorting out "stuff", I found a sun-bleached jaw-bone of some large-ish animal I had brought back from the bush near Chase Creek. I moved it outside, to the lower shelf of a side table on the patio. This afternoon, Laurie and I were standing at the back door, looking for the bushtits, and saw one of the squirrels on that shelf, gnawing, like a dog, at the end of the bone.

Is this like taking calcium supplements? Or just sharpening his teeth, as Laurie suggests?


Big cone pine cone. Great squirrel food. Photo from here.

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*I know, I know, I wrote bushtits earlier. I meant pine siskins. Don't ask me why I always mix up certain words; I have no idea. It's not incipient Alzheimer's, unless I've had it since the middle of last century.