By KAREN MADORIN
Leaves fall from branches this time of year, and so do nuts. Around here those include black walnuts, acorns, and pecans. This abundance fills winter larders of squirrels and makes messes that function as obstacle courses resulting in turned ankles. Based on a friend’s story, it also leads to squirrels playing Rambo and throwing nut bombs at humans cleaning up yards.
From past experience, I know squirrels have precise aim when they target dogs. When we lived in the country, resident tree rats filled their cheeks with our golden retriever’s kibble and sat on our back porch roof, lying in wait for him to come in for a drink or snack. As he’d refresh himself, they’d start a chirring verbal attack and then launch dog food missiles that beaned him until he ran yiping out of range. As much as we felt bad for the dog, we chuckled at these orchestrated assaults. Who knew squirrels studied artillery tactics and used them effectively? Forget robots overtaking the world. With enough nuts or dog kibble, squirrels will beat them to it.
A friend told recently shared a similar tale, only she was the squirrels’ target. A tidy housekeeper, she doesn’t like to leave whole walnuts or cracked hulls littering her porch and yard. During this time of year, she regularly cleans up the fallout from her trees, sometimes several times a day. She’s joked in the past about how her resident squirrels chirr and chatter when she works outside through spring and summer. Once fall comes, forget the verbal war--they arm themselves and move from defense to offense.
She explained how she went out to clear her porch, and deceptively cute rodents immediately threatened her. Ignoring their tirade, she proceeded to clean up both naturally fallen nuts as well as broken hulls left behind after those scolding squirrels scored tasty nut meats.
In no time, the attack involved more than scolding. As the squirrels in our yard did to our dog, sticks, leaves, and nuts pelted her. Imagine her surprise to look into now leafless branches to spy furry warriors orchestrating their assault. High ground provided an advantage, and I’d guess their aim was better than hers as well. That would be true if I were the target.
As our friend indignantly told her story, those of us sipping coffee nearly snorted it through our noses. Prior to her account, we’d discussed degrees of squirrel cuteness. I’d even planned to find a source where I could collect walnuts in order to lure a new couple into our yard to replace our lone resident squirrel that fried itself in a transformer incident last year.
At this point, our oak trees are too young to produce a winter’s supple of acorns so I rely on folks willing to part with some of theirs. After contemplating her story, I’m reconsidering. Maybe I need to content myself with local birds and bunny for my wildlife fix. I’m certain my chickens don’t want to become targets any more than I do.