North Star Writers Group

My wife Sally is facing one of the major challenges of her life. It all began when the weather started warming and I hauled our backyard bird feeders out of the shed in anticipation of the approach of another summer.

On one side of the standoff you have Sally, a spunky, 85-pound native of New York State who is fighting mad. On the other side you have a squirrel that weighs in at two, maybe two-and-a-half pounds tops, and possesses the appetite of a Bengal tiger.

Six times within two hours after I filled the bird feeders, the pesky squirrel struck, quickly draining them of their contents.

Soon, Sally forgot all about her household chores to sit in front of the dining room window and angrily observe the comings and goings of the super-hungry creature.

She even named the animal.

“Here comes that %$#& squirrel again,” she said each time it brazenly hippety-hopped across the backyard to wreak havoc on our bird feeders.

Actually, I think %$#& the Squirrel is kind of a cute little guy. Or gal. But I’d never tell Sally that.

Early on, Sally tried to frighten away the squirrel by ripping open the back door and shouting “Scat!” and “Scram!” Later, her patience dwindling, she resorted to ripping open the back door and screaming “Get the hell out of here!”

Despite the threats, the squirrel continued to devour our birdseed like it was the house specialty at the most fashionable restaurant in town.

At one point – in an effort to add a dash of humor to the proceedings – I said “Why don’t we just post little signs in the yard that warn ‘No Squirrels Allowed.’” Sally didn’t even smile at the suggestion.

Then she hit on the idea of filling the feeders with edibles squirrels hate, so I motored on down to the nearest store that sells birdseed.

“What have you got that squirrels won’t eat?” I asked the clerk.

He offered several suggestions and I bought a bag of each.

When I got home, I refilled the by-then-empty bird feeders with the new seeds, and 10 minutes later Sally’s least-favorite squirrel came bounding gaily across the lawn and promptly gobbled every bit of it up in a matter of seconds.

Now, a month after it began, the confrontation between my wife and the squirrel continues. But there are indications Sally might be getting the upper hand in the battle.

Last week, in what may have been her final attempt to discourage the bushy-tailed intruder, Sally purchased two so-called “squirrel-proof” bird feeders and they seem to be doing the trick.

Not once in the past five days have the seeds in those feeders been ravaged by %$#& the Squirrel.

Unfortunately, birds don’t care for them, either. But we’ll deal with that problem at a later date.

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