Larcenous squirrel

Sampling the merchandise ...

And planning the heist ...

Will my chain and wire hold? I've bought a new cage, just in case.

Bushtits vs. squirrels; who will win?

The squirrels stole my suet cage. I had it tied on a branch with good steel wire; it didn't deter them. They were welcome to snack on the suet, but not to take it away, cage and all.

I got another cage, and more suet, and double-wired it. They stole that one.

I found a third torn off the tree, abandoned half-way down the lawn. Empty, of course. They managed to steal that one for good, with its suet refill, a bit later.

I've been looking for a new cage since the weather turned cold. Everywhere, they've been sold out; I think all the local squirrels have been busy.

Finally, two days ago, I found one in the supermarket. This one came with a heavier chain than the previous three; I've hung it from the chain, and added new wire.

A flock of bushtits found the suet by the next morning. I love to watch how they all swoop in, as if blown by the wind, swarm over the cage, hanging from all sides and the bottom for a couple of minutes, and then blow down and away, like little grey leaves.

I count 17 here.

"Wait for me!"

I wonder how long this one will last.

Driving me distracted

I'm working at my desk; movement outside the window distracts me. A swinging, bouncing branch with a pincushion wildly dancing beneath. I grab the camera, plant my elbows on the desk and try to focus.

Bushtits and suet.

The bushtits leave. I go back to work. Again, the branch bounces.

"Glad they left some for me."

"May as well finish it off."

Finally, the branch slows and stops. Maybe now I can get in a focused shot.

Well, yes. Although the subject matter is not quite what I was hoping for.

I need a big mirror over on the evergreens, with a spotlight on the feeder. And another case-lot of suet.

A temptation too strong to resist

This varied thrush lives in our evergreens. Until now, he had rarely ventured beyond their cover or the shadow of the hedge. But he loves suet. Loves it so much, he has forgotten all his shyness; he even allows me to open the window and poke the camera out. It used to be that even my shadow moving inside the house was enough to send him scurrying back into the trees.


He's a ground feeder, so he contents himself with scratching for the crumbs that the chickadees and pine siskins drop from the hanging suet cage.

I wonder what he would think of Zick dough. I'll set some out for him tomorrow.

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The Suet War, continued

Squirrels vs. Me and the birds, Round 3:

(Round 1, Round 2.)

It's been over a week since I hung the suet basket on sturdy wire. The squirrels continue their assaults on it, to no avail. The big black squirrel that stole the first batch tried his hand, of course, and gave up in disgust. A couple of greys worked at it for a while, until Scruffy chased them off.

(With all the running up and down, dashing from branch to branch, dodging Scruffy's angry teeth and chatter, the little maple was shaking from the ground up.)

And now, with the field to herself, it's Scruffy's turn. And she proves as talented, in her own way, as the first thief:

"Hmmm... Looks easy enough."

The toehang.

But look at that toehanging technique again. The knees face the camera, while the toenails grasp the branch. The bottom of the foot is now towards the camera. How does she do that?

Look at your own legs and arms; we can manage that swivel with our arms, but definitely not with the legs.

Ah, but that's not all that swivels:

The Spinal Twist yoga position.

Here, the knees and belly face the camera, while the upper torso is turned to show us her shoulder blades. (The white markings are scar tissue from an old injury.) She's still holding on with the toes, but one foot seems to be losing its grip.

7 seconds later, she has fallen:

"Oops!"

When she falls, her hind legs drop, but she propels herself upward, ending up on the branch above.

She tries again, this time, hanging by only one foot.

"Look, Ma! One foot, and a tail!"

"How about one toenail?"

How long can she hold that pose? So far, it's 12 seconds.


And then she spins and grabs with the second hind foot.

"Nom, nom."

I have noticed, before, how the squirrels use their tails for balance, curving it inwards to stand on the edge of the feed bucket, or dropping it on the far side of a branch. In some of these photos, it almost seems that Scruffy is using it for grasping, like a tame version of the monkey's prehensile tail.

I looked it up; opossums and porcupines have prehensile tails; squirrels do not. But some rats are able to use their tails in this manner, hanging from branches, at least briefly. (Wikipedia.)

Scruffy is probably using hers for balance; a bit of weight on the far side of the branch. If, in this manoeuvre, the tail rests on the branch, so much the better, but the tail does not have the ability to actually grasp the branch.

Be that as it may, she can't break the cage down, and finally gives up and checks out the ground for crumbs.

"Not much suet here, but maybe there are some sunflower seeds?"

So, I won this round. The current score is Squirrels 1, Home team 2.

Go, Team!

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Squirrel 1: Home Team 1

He won that round.

I slept in this morning. When I got up, the suet was gone, the flimsy wire I had used twisted and spread apart.

I'm off to Home Depot to look for a cage.

* Update: I bought a metal suet basket, plus some sturdy wire to attach it to the branch. It's hanging up now. I want to watch the suet thief wear down his teeth on that!

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Stop, thief!

Just before the snowstorms started, I picked up a suet cake for the birds. I'd never fed them suet before, and I didn't have the proper squirrel-proof cage for it. There were none in the store, either, so I made a sort of net bag with kitchen twine and fishing line (for strength and un-rottability), and hung it from a branch of the maple tree. (Laurie pulled the branch down for me with a rake, and I tied it, rather messily. I should have at least used the stepladder.)

The birds discovered it quickly; first the chickadees, then the juncos and house finches. The crumbs fell into the London Pride patch, where more juncos, assorted sparrows, towhees, and even a varied thrush congregated to clean up. Scruffy the squirrel tried to reach it, but the string was just a bit too long for her. By now, they've reduced it to maybe one third of the original size.

Today I had a new visitor, just a bit bigger than Scruffy. And maybe a bit more resourceful. See his strategy:

2:25 The basic toe-hang. "Mmm! Good stuff!"

2:26:41 The stretch and swing.

2:27:01 Bringing the string over the branch, for a shorter swing and a more comfortable position.

2:27:14 I could almost see when the thought crossed his mind, "I should take this one home." He bites the string above the first knot.

2:27:37 "Now, if I yank this hard enough ..." The tug-of-war.

2:27:46 "Maybe if I bite the string here ..." Opening up the net.

2:28:00 Reverse direction and give it a good shaking.

2:28:28 Break time. A quick nibble to build up energy for the next stage. "And, yes, I see that you're watching me, but who cares? You can't climb up here."

2:28:46 Reverse direction again. Start rolling and twisting and tugging. Loosen up the net. Over a minute for this stage.

2:29:59 And now, stretch that string, and YANK!

2:30:28 Success! Entire operation, just over 5 minutes.

The string and branch bounced around, the suet plummetted to the ground. I decided it was time to call a halt. That suet was for the birds.

I stepped out the door; the squirrel stopped on his way down the tree to challenge me.

"That cookie is MINE; I liberated it."

He raced down the trunk and over the garden. But I was faster. After I had gone inside, he came right over to the door to claim his property. Too late.

The suet is up again, tied with wire this time. We'll see what happens tomorrow.

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