I saw them a few weeks ago scampering across the edge of the roof and decided to ignore them. I choose not to recall my brother’s stories of squirrels getting into his attic and chewing on electrical wires. Zap! Serves them right.
My brother lives in a wooded area and I live and garden on a former farm field. He should have squirrels, I should not.
But I do.
There’s no denying them on the bird feeder or posing on top of the post from which the bird feeder hangs.
They must have come from the woods behind the houses across the streets. I imagine they had a meeting and decided to take their chances, to leave the woods, make their way through the large expanse of lawn and then across the asphalt street to my house where there is a bird feeder.
Bird feeder. Not squirrel feeder. Don’t they know the difference?
Apparently not, or the difference doesn’t matter to them. It is food, and they are hungry.
Sciurus carolinensis, the gray squirrels.