3’s A Breeze – True Confessions

Downstairs 

I generally fess up when I make a mistake – not that I’ve had to do it often but if one is willing to take credit when credit is due they should be equally willing to face the music when things go south.  So I did.  I took responsibility and the knocks and cleaned up after myself.  It was an accident after all, no one in their right mind would send an open dinner invitation to all the rodents in the neighborhood on purpose.

What started as a joyful adventure in bird watching turned into something akin to a nightmare in short order and it was all my fault.  I was the one who purchased the bird feeders – I bought the seeds – I encouraged feathered friends from near and far to flock to our beautifully treed backyard and feast on the bounty I’d prepared.

I should have known something was amiss when the feeders started emptying at an ever increasing rate.  I’d expected my visitors to eat like… well, like birds – instead they seemed to be chowing down like starving velociraptors.  I’d fill the feeders in the morning and watch the birds gather – finches (golden and scarlet), juncos, chickadees, sparrows and even downy woodpeckers flocked to the fancy (and expensive) shelled and crushed sunflower seeds (touted as being a debris free food for feeders and less likely to attract uninvited guests).  By evening the feeders would be empty.

The squirrels were the first uninvited guests.  Apparently fancy, expensive, shelled and crushed sunflower seeds are like crack cocaine to squirrels – they can’t get enough.  They don’t give a damn if you’re privy to their gluttony, they care not about the lineup of invited guests waiting in the wings, they will eat right through the feeder if need be to reach the tasty morsels inside.

The fancy, shelled and crushed sunflower seeds soon became too expensive to feed my ever growing clientele so I purchased a cheaper Costco sized variety pack of bird food. The label on the bag promised the seeds would attract all sorts of winged customers – it didn’t mention what else might be lured into the yard. 

Where the squirrels were quite acrobatic in their pursuit of a free lunch their kissing cousins were more grounded and gathered like gangsters beneath the feeders. The original fancy, expensive,shelled and crushed sunflower seeds had turned my feathered friends into seed snobs – they rifled through the bargain brand and discarded less desirable bits like spoilt children.  Millet rained from the feeders.  Apparently rats really like millet.

The stream behind our house wends its way through a fern lined gully and is home to a variety of wildlife –  birds sing, squirrels leap from branch to branch high in the canopy of evergreens and rats scurry beneath the shrubs and hide in shadows. 

Rats get a bum rap in my opinion – not that they don’t deserve their reputation.  They are certainly not an endangered species, they don’t need my protection nor do they need a free lunch.  It’s true, they’re pests but one thing they’re not is stupid – if some clown wants to open an all-you-can-eat rodent buffet in her backyard the rats will be first in line.  

And so they arrived in droves.  Rats of every size showed up (the sign must have read ‘kids eat for free’.).  Buoyed by their numbers their confidence grew until they didn’t seem bothered by human presence.  And that’s when I knew I had inadvertently created a major problem.

I’ve since put the feeders away and cleaned up the residue of seed from the lawn. My son-in-law packed the Costco sized bag of bird food to the other side of the creek under the cover of darkness and dumped it.  We’ve not seen much of the squirrels lately and the bird song has been sounding a little distant but the rats have moved along – apparently a new diner has opened downstream.

Upstairs

View from the Deck

Do you remember that iconic scene in Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarves where Ms. White is in the forest, surrounded by a host of rabbits, squirrels, birds, raccoons, and deer? I think there’s even a tortoise and a family of quail if you look hard enough. Sitting on the deck just before dusk I looked out between the two large trees in our yard, and realized that we were only a tortoise, quails and a raven haired maiden away from remaking the 1937 classic.

Sitting in our backyard is wonderful, the tall trees shelter it from all but the worst weather, the sound of the creek spills up from the ravine and when joined by the songs of the various types of birds, creates a naturally relaxing soundtrack. I fully and wholeheartedly applauded my mother-in-law’s efforts to draw more of the joyous songbirds and their less boisterous friends to the yard. Except the woodpecker. F-him; that’s a whole different story.

The arrival of the squirrels and their less fluffy cousins was also less welcome. It started with the squirrels who clearly sent out word that the buffet was open and plentiful. Looking like a pre-pandemic costco on sample saturday, the well-fed squirrels lined up above the feeders, with their less acrobatic friends below, cleaning up anything that fell or was thrown from the feeder. In retrospect, I was naive to think that they would be scared off when I yelled (and may have thrown things) from the nearby deck. I was also naive about the size and constitution of their teeth, evidenced by the teeth marks left in the top of the plastic feeder.

The squirrels hung by one foot from the wire suspending the feeder, and when they couldn’t reach, they leapt from the tree trunk to the feeder like tiny furry superheroes, catching the lip of the feeder at the last moment. The rats scurried from the undergrowth gathering in groups of twos and threes, discussing their good fortune as they dined, and just as I was about to request they leave, a raven haired maiden appeared behind me from the kitchen with a Gin and Tonic in hand. Well played Walt. Well played. I guess I can let them finish their meal before the next song begins.