Under Assault

For years, one of the feeders in my backyard was a fortress -virtually squirrel-proof. It sits in the center of the yard, far enough away from the lilacs, the mulberry and maple trees that squirrels aren't able to jump to it. A large baffle keeps the yard varmints from being able to schinny up the pole and into the feeder from the ground. A sanctuary for the mourning doves, chickadees, finches, and juncos who gather daily to feast on sunflower seed, cracked corn, and peanuts. And so, except for the rare occasion in winter when the snow would get deep enough so the squirrels could jump up into the feeder, it was the perfect squirrel-proof feeder. Until last week...

A new generation of squirrels have all the daring of Evil Kenieval and the acrobatic skills of the Wallendas. It took awhile to figure out how they were getting into the feeder, but using my superior observation skills (ha!), I figured it out. Imagine inching yourself out to the tip of a branch no bigger around than your pinkie finger. You begin bouncing up and down slowly, making the branch drop closer to the peak of the feeder. It's still a good five feet between the bobbing branch and the feeder, but you're a daredevil squirrel and with glee, you launch yourself off the branch. You land - SMACK - on the peak and now it's easy-peasy - let the feasting begin. At least until  a crazed human comes charging out the door to chase you from the feeder. 

This cycle of squirrels invading and me yelling went on for a few days. My brother-in-law joined the battle. He brought a pole saw and snip-snip (really more like saw-saw) the duplicitous branch was gone. Problem solved. Or so we thought. Jason wasn't gone a half an hour and - you guessed it - squirrel in the feeder. The next day the mulberry tree got a pruning. The branches closest to feeder were gone. 

You'd think it was the end of the war. For the squirrels, it was just a lost battle - the war wasn't over. These squirrels really want the seed. With the original branch gone, they switched to a higher one. Fewer squirrels are willing to risk the leap, though. Christmas Day the family watched as one squirrel after the other would scamper up the trunk, shimmy out on the branch and then debate how badly it wanted the seed. And in most cases, it would give up. But there are a few who dare. 

The war will continue. There will be days when a squirrel gets in. But not for long - my vigilance will be unending. And maybe come springtime, I'll move the feeder. There's only so many branches you can trim before you're left with a stick. 

What's in a name?

Prairie grasses run alongside the raptor mews at the nature center. The small hillside is usually unremarkable - it doesn't have the variety of forbs that the main prairie does. Most days, I walk past it and don't really think about what's there. So, that's probably why I noticed something unusual on the hillside today. During lunch, I noticed some of the grasses bobbing up and down much more enthusiastically than could be produced by the existing wind. Riding the stems and pecking at the seed heads were small birds - about a dozen of them.

The rusty cap and white on the wings helped me identify these birds: American Tree Sparrows. They're about 4" long and have a gray stripe between a black eye line and the rusty cap. They look a lot like chipping sparrows, but have a dark mark on their chest. (Notice it on the middle bird?)

When the early settlers first saw these birds, they thought they were seeing tree sparrows like those in Europe. But, as often happened, the European version was a totally different species from the North American one. This bird - the American Tree Sparrow - doesn't like trees! 

It gathers and feeds in open areas or where there are grasses and seedy plants. We're likely to spot them in winter when they move as flocks. They rarely eat at feeders, so that's why I didn't recognize this species. My backyard has lots of trees and shrubs - ironically the absolutely wrong habitat for tree sparrows. I'll keep my eyes open for them at work, since they won't be interested in my yard. 

Trampled by ...Squirrels

My backyard is covered in snow. Wednesday night it was pristine - a white blanket covering the shrubs and grasses and camouflaging the structures. It looked lovely. Thursday morning the snow was dotted with a few tenacious maple leaves, finally ripped from the trees by the strong overnight winds. But the snow was still a smooth coating over the yard. And then - Thursday afternoon: the lovely smooth surface of white was gone. There was almost no spot not stepped on, run over, or schmushed. It had been trampled - trampled by squirrels.

I've noticed more squirrels in the yard lately. It's not unusual to see six or seven at at time. And they're usually chasing each other. So, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that there are tracks everywhere. It's a record of the squirrel movement throughout the backyard  over the course of a day. It might have been neat to have a camera out there recording the movements over the course of the day, but for now, here's the final view.