I’ve discovered that I’m turning into my grandfather.
See, my late grandfather, Arved “The Chief” Stangl, was famous for one thing in our family: his hatred of squirrels.
Don’t believe me? Check out the full story via my dad’s editorial column on the subject.
Since moving last June, one of the things I love most is being able to sit in my living room, look out the window and enjoy nature.
This year I decided that I wanted to install some bird feeders in the yard – last summer we had a wide variety of birds in our area, and I wanted to give them a reason to come back and visit more.
In May, I bought a Shepherd’s hook and hung up the bird feeder that my parents gifted me on my birthday. I was SO EXCITED for the birds to show up.
So I waited. And waited. And waited. Until FINALLY, the birds started showing up.
I was so jazzed that I went out and bought another feeder, even though by that point I had found out there was a black bear chilling in our neighborhood that enjoyed destroying bird feeders. What are the chances he’d come up to my yard and eat mine, right?
I quickly discovered that it wasn’t bears I had to be wary of though. Oh no, now I had to worry about squirrels.
And I quickly understood why my grandpa hated them so much.
There is a collection of fairly regular squirrels that frequent our yard: the Black one, the Brown one, the Grey One with White Ears (that makes him look like he doesn’t have any ears at all), and the Fatty McFaterson that’s shown in the picture.
After about a month, I discovered that they had managed to rip out one of the red perches on the new feeder, which caused it to empty itself on the ground. Oh hell no…
I felt like Elmer Fudd fighting a losing battle with Bugs Bunny, but I was bound and determined to beat these furry little pricks.
So, I went out and got a new feeder that would be almost impossible for the squirrels to get into.
I refilled both feeders, sprayed deer repellent on the pole (because why not), and left it alone to see what would happen.
It was a couple days before the other feeder was cleared out of seed and they were using their acrobatic skills to get into the new one.
Not only that, but now I had bigger fish to fry.
Refusing to admit defeat, today I went to Menard’s to pick up a baffle to put on the hook to prevent them from climbing up to the feeders. However while I was there, I made a realization:
If I can’t beat them, I’ll just feed them.
I purchased a couple squirrel feeders that I attached to the trees in the yard.
What you don’t see is the Small Animal repellent that I purchased and doused the feeder pole in (seriously, this stuff smells like if someone dumped a bunch of cinnamon into a bottle of Avon perfume – it’s just rank). So suck on THAT Fatty & Crew.
I DID get my baffle, but I need to wrap a couple layers of duct tape where it needs to go because the pole is too thin for it to work as is.
Since I was there, I got this fun little guy to protect our vegetable garden in case the squirrels and the chipmunks decide to look elsewhere.
So, even though my struggles with the squirrels aren’t quite at the epic levels that my grandfather experienced, I can definitely relate to his mantra:
I like dealing with people less than I like squirrels, and I HATE the damn squirrels.