Posts Tagged ‘squirrels’
Feed Delivered
On the days we expect delivery of feed for the horses, there is usually a text alert providing an ETA for the truck. Yesterday, I kept one eye out the window and one eye on the phone messages. I even got up to check if Asher was barking because the delivery had arrived, but it was just another of his regular outbursts over some invisible trigger that we fail to see or hear.
I did get distracted for a short while by a movie on my laptop that caught my attention while I was having lunch. When Asher showed up on my hip with insistent signaling that he needed to go out, I prepared to be outside with him until the truck showed up or we needed to feed horses, maybe both at the same time.
In the woods, he decided to take on a snag that was four times his height because his senses told him there were critter snacks inside. He worked tenaciously for the longest time, despite it looking like a useless effort to me.
It doesn’t really bother me that he tries, because it entertains him with one of his great passions: destroying toys (or trees) to bits. It’s always a bonus to occupy his mind and burn some of his energy while he is out in the great outdoors.
To my surprise, after about twenty minutes of his manic pawing and gnawing, what I suspect were small flying squirrels began popping out of holes and racing to the highest point before making a flying leap for the next large trunk.
Asher would catch a glimpse and race to the other tree, but he almost always missed when they would scamper up that one to a dizzying height from which they made amazing leaps, floating down toward the next big tree a safe distance away.
When my feet started to get cold, and it was close enough to time to feed the horses, it took a concerted effort to convince Asher to give up and move on. Eventually, he got the message and joined me down the trail toward the barn.
As we rounded the corner to the front door, we found the delivery had happened without my noticing, having not received any messages in advance. I don’t know if it was while we were in the woods or still in the house. I fully expected to hear the truck if it happened while we were outside, so I’m guessing it was during my lunch break.
At least I didn’t need to make a decision about where to have them leave the pallet. He set it right in front of the doors that are frozen shut. That meant I ended up moving 2000 lbs of feed, one 50 lb bag at a time, through the small door and restacked them on two pallets inside.
Just another day of fun at Wintervale that negates the need for a gym membership!
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Day One
‘Twas the first day of the new year and all through the house
the possibilities are endless like the droppings from that dang mouse.
The blessings we are able to enjoy tend to feel somewhat diminished by the harsh realities being suffered by people around the world who live in war zones or are enduring other oppressions. Mice in our house seem like such a minor hassle in comparison.
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The morning frost highlighted horse hair snagged on the overhang support beam that gets used as a scratching post. It also made our evergreen trees look like the flocked white Christmas trees that I always thought were ridiculous when I was a kid. In my limited knowledge, trees weren’t white. Why would they make them that way?
Plenty of life lessons available in that example of limited perspective.
The weather service has put us under a winter storm watch for Tuesday. The first new snow of the year! The old snow we already have is starting to show its age.
The squirrels out our windows are going gangbusters after the acorns under the snowpack.
Sure wish there was a way to harness their energy and put it to good use. I wonder if they could be trained to ward off the mice that get into our house.
Happy New Year 2023!
Ravaging Varmint
We received a wonderful multi-colored lily as a gift last year and Cyndie planted it in the ground outside our front entrance to the house. It was one of the first plants to sprout from the ground when the snow melted away this past spring. It brought us both great joy when the flower blossom appeared.
Isn’t that just wonderful?!
Well, yesterday, this is the scene Cyndie unexpectedly stumbled upon:
Not looking so wonderful anymore, eh?
What critter would not only dig up such a beautiful flowering plant but toss it away like a piece of unwanted trash?
The most likely trouble makers we suspect are squirrels or chipmunks. We’ve seen both marauding in the vicinity of the once glorious lily.
We’ll see how hardy the lily turns out to be. Cyndie replanted it.
I may need to spend some extended time lounging on the front step. My slingshot hasn’t had any chances to come out a play for quite a while. We can find out who is more patient, them or me. If I sit still long enough, me thinks they might just forget I’m there and I can apply a little consequence for their ravaging behaviors.
Vengeful? Who, me?
In this case, a little.
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Tree Dwelling
Near the edge of the woods at the bottom of the hill behind our house, there is a large tree with three distinct critter access points. I noticed them the other day because Delilah stopped to look up at the tree with excited interest. That almost always means a squirrel was moving around in the branches.
I didn’t see any life in the branches but I very much noticed the three holes in the tree.
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Do you think those are three separate “apartments” or is that a deluxe three-story home with a door on each floor?
Cyndie, Delilah, and I are waking up at the lake place this morning on the weekend of the American Birkebeiner cross-country ski race. Our friends, the Williams family will be joining us, and their daughter, Ella will be skiing it on Saturday for the first time.
It is estimated the event brings 40-thousand people to Hayward for the weekend. That changes things dramatically around here. For reference, the population of Hayward is a little over 2000. It messes up our navigation because they close roads and strive to move everyone by shuttle bus. Foils our desire to sneak down a fire lane road to catch a glimpse of racers in the middle of the woods.
Organizers want all spectators to watch the beginning or the end, or both, traveling by shuttle bus. I’d prefer to not be constrained to standing among the masses. I’m not tall enough to expect I will be able to see anything in a crowd, anyway.
Before we left home yesterday, I needed to finish clearing snow from in front of the big barn doors so I could move bales of hay in for the person tending to the horses while we are away. I also needed to pull snow off the eaves above the front door of the house and then shovel that into a giant mound by the front steps.
Arriving up here hours later, the first order of business was to shovel access paths to the doors. The driveway was plowed and caretakers had pulled some snow off the roof but no good attention had been paid toward clearing snow from in front of the doors.
Ski racing might be an Olympic sport, but I feel like the shoveling I’ve been doing lately is medal-worthy.
In case you didn’t form an opinion about the tree pictured above, I’d say it’s one palatial three-story home based on the noticeable lack of tracks in the snow at the base. I may be wrong, but I’m guessing it’s some fat-cat of a squirrel luxuriating up there with no reason to come out and get his feet wet.
I think Delilah could smell him.
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Doors Open
Despite the strong spring wind roaring around outside yesterday afternoon, we opened both doors to the deck to let a few hours of fresh air into the house. Our weather finally switched from gray skies to blue, and the glory of spring and its infinite possibilities was radiating with vivid pizzazz.
Not to be a Debbie-Downer or anything, but… Cyndie walked down to visit the labyrinth and found this:
The multiple-language peace pole was toppled over. Cyndie’s winged angel statue was face down with a broken nose. In the distance, my “third rock” lay on the ground beside the boulders that previously cradled it.
I’m developing a grudge over the good old month of April. In my opinion, we should just trash the sweet saying, “April showers bring May flowers.”
I suggest something more up-to-date, like, “April is [@bleepin’#] Crazy!!“
As pleasing as the afternoon was yesterday, it is mind-boggling to accept the warnings coming from our National Weather Service of insane amounts of snow that will begin tomorrow night and last through Friday. One to two feet possible!?
“April blizzards bring pleas of insanity.”
Sometimes i get so frantic, sometimes i’m schizophrenic
Plead Insanity | Wookiefoot; from Domesticated – The Story of Nothing and the Monkey, released September 12, 2000 © all rights reserved
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The squirrels seem to have kicked into overdrive on harvesting leftover corn cobs from the surrounding fields and bringing them onto our property.
I don’t understand their apparent fascination with plucking every last kernel off the cob and then leaving them lay where they fall. Maybe it’s like the human fascination with popping bubble wrap.
This is that weird field-corn that has a texture like hard plastic. It seems like it might rival the McDonald’s french fries for never, ever showing signs of decay, no matter how much time has passed since it fell under a seat in the car.
I’m wondering if the squirrels just keep trying to bite into each kernel, but drop it and move on to the next, hoping beyond hope that the next one might be like the corn their elders tell stories of eating when they were young.
Sound insane? It’s April, I tell ya!
They could be eating acorns, because there’s still plenty of those around from last fall. Although, now that I mention it, I suppose acorns could start to lose their appeal after endless months of nothing but.
“April weather is like eating old, wet leather.”
It might be about to blizzard in April again, but we’ll re-open the doors soon enough. May is just a few blinks away, after all.
“April isn’t all bad, it eventually ends.”
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Forest View
I’m no expert, but I’m willing to venture a guess that a tree that sprouts leaves in the spring, but can’t get them to grow any larger than the tip of a finger, is going through the slow process of dying.
I’ve been watching this tree out our bathroom window for several weeks. It is particularly noticeable because all the rest of the trees around it opened up gorgeous full-sized leaves on their branches.
That standout stalled at the earliest stage of sprouting leaves.
I’m now doubting its likelihood of catching up.
Looking out that window yesterday, it occurred to me how many months of the year that view opens deep into the wooded slope, looking across a carpet of brown fallen leaves covering the ground.
That spot is a favorite for rambunctious squirrels that put on Ninja Warrior obstacle course demonstrations, bringing Delilah to an uncontrollable outburst of window-screen destruction and flurries of loud barking in the front porch.
This time of year, that section of forest becomes an enchanting mystery. I love the darkness that develops under the canopy of shady leafed-out trees. When the sun is really bright, it makes that darkness even more intense.
Last year, in August, I posted about the Inviting Portals that beckon a visit into the benefits of breathing the forest air. I find those darkened openings irresistibly captivating.
I’m convinced that I receive equally beneficial psychological rewards simply from absorbing the glorious views of the walls of trees that tower along the edges of our forest and fields.
It’s never clear what the change from bare trees to leafy ones will bring. Branches along the trail that were overhead all winter will often surprise me with how much they droop under the added weight of leaves come spring.
After a brief, yet energized thunderstorm yesterday afternoon, some of the young trees around the house failed to hold their posture under the added weight of wetted leaves.
So, we’ve got trees with not enough leaves and trees with more leaves than they can support, but they are each an exception. The rest of the forest is as picturesque as ever now, providing views that invite and inspire.
Forest views that feed my soul tremendously.
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Trail Cam
We finally got ourselves a camera to monitor the animal activity on our trails. The big challenge will be figuring out where the best vantage point is for capturing activity. I took a first crack at it over the weekend and hit the jackpot.
Two different species of ferocious forest animals were captured in their travels across our trail. We now have a clear explanation for why Delilah gets so worked up, because we have photo-evidence of the threatening intruders that have been encroaching on her turf.
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Hey, don’t laugh. Don’t you remember that scene in “Monty Python and the Holy Grail?”
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Critter Feeders
My sister, Mary, must have been out at my house recently, sometime when I didn’t know about it, because yesterday, she sent me this picture of one of our squirrels:
Generally, Cyndie is the one who fills the bird feeders here, of which there are many. I’m hesitant to do it, because we haven’t squirrel-proofed our feeders enough to successfully save a decent percentage of seed for the birds.
We haven’t raccoon-proofed them either, but I fear that is beyond reasonable to expect.
I haven’t mentioned it here this week, because I have been trying to not be a whiner this time, but Cyndie is out-of-town, again. It’ll have been a week, today. So, I’m starting to get hungry, and the birds are starting to get hungry, and all the other critters are starting to get hungry.
If I’m not eatin’ well, I figure, they shouldn’t either.
As if we needed proof, the recent snowfall has provided ample evidence of the critters beating a path(s) to the feeders. I thought it made pretty humorous pictures.
Relative Something 