Squirrel du Soleil

song du jour: I am Eve, Mediaeval Baebes

mood: amused

One of Skyler's Christmas presents this year was tickets for the two of us to see Cirque du Soleil, but the wondrous acrobatics of people, who can bend farther and in more directions than most human beings, nearly paled in comparison to the seemingly impossible antics of fearless inner city gang squirrels, confronted with the new squirrel proof bird feeder my mother gave me. Birthday before last, my friend, Rachel, gave me a squirrel proof bird feeder that brought hours of delight to my desk and workbench as I watched tiny little winged creatures flit on and off the perches in search of lunch. At least I did until the squirrels ripped the perches and hatches off the thing, so they could gorge themselves while hanging upside down, back feet secured in the top hook with the skill of a master trapeze artist.

After stuffing their cheeks full, the fluffy Disney rats would fling their furry tummies against my window, rebounding with a whack, and flopping onto the deck. Eventually, I mostly ceased having near heart stopping reactions at this recurring shock in the middle of soldering pieces with my torch in hand. The sad birds, including the mama of the cardinal family that returns to nest in my yard each year, would stare at me with one eye in contempt and disappointment that I was not a better provider. The new birdfeeder went up Christmas afternoon, and the birds seem to have forgiven me, but since then, I've caught the same squirrel, seated upright like a guarding meerkat at the far edge of my deck, staring and contemplating the new feeder, carefully calculating what it will take for the upcoming attack. We shall see...

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