Ghoti's nemesis

Dear St. Francis,

There are many moments in one’s life which are truly iconic. The freedom and thrill of getting your driver’s license, graduating from high school, ordering your first cocktail in a bar (legally), and most of all when you realize you’re turning into one of your parents. Or in my case presently, a grandparent. But let me rewind and start at the beginning with this story.

In every family there is feud which is legendary, whether it’s between two sisters who no longer speak to each other due to some form of sibling rivalry gone horribly awry. Or parent and child who constantly engage in a battle of wills and drive each other nearly to the edge of madness. In my family, there was such a feud. One that was nearly as epic as the battle between the Hatfields and the McCoys and nearly as deadly–no doubt.

But rather a fight between kin, the feud that was famous in our family was the one between man and beast. My grandfather and “the squirrels”. It was a battle that raged for years, until finally one summer my grandfather stood proud victor, and defeated the cunning rascals once and for all.

My grandmother loved songbirds and derived great joy from hearing them sing outside the kitchen window of their home as she prepared the daily meals. So my grandfather being the crafty gentleman that he was made a couple of special bird feeders to attract several of my grandmother’s favorite fine-feathered friends. They were clever feeders made of glass and wood and crafted to look like miniature houses. Having grown up on a farm and living most of his life in the country, as they say, he was well aware of the need to place bird feeders in such a manner so as to prevent squirrels from raiding the booty held within them.

Thinking he would surely outwit the varmints, my grandfather hung the feeders from a tree limb within easy reach from a ladder so as to facilitate ease of replenishment of the nourishment offered in return for sweet song. However, no sooner than he had returned to terra firma from his ladder after hanging his dear creations did he spy a squirrel descending the tether of a feeder like some sort of rogue rodent ninja on a mission to raid a new found stash.

Paw paw, as he was called by we grandchildren, was livid.

His next attempt to keep the wretched beasts from raiding the grain silos was to mount his creations on eight foot poles made from three inch pipe. He was positive this approach would work and his nemeses surely would not be able to climb the poles to reach the bird feeders.  Oh but the rascally rodents proved him wrong and not only could they shimmy up the poles. But they sat gracefully on the perch intended for the song birds and mocked him two feet above his head.

After watching his nemeses for several days and tracking their movements up and down the poles Paw Paw devised an ingenious strategy to prevent the squirrels from reaching the bird feeders sitting atop their individual perches. Just below the bird feeders he attached an oval sheet metal platform roughly two feet in length and one foot in width.To the platform he attached an eighteen inch sheet metal skirt thereby creating an impenetrable barrier around the bird feeders. The ninja squirrels could continue to shimmy up the poles. However once close to the top, they’d become trapped under the skirt and be unable to “grip” the sheet metal and make their way to the hoped for prize.

Paw paw stood proud and victorious at long last.

I am now engaged in a similar battle with a black squirrel that lives in the tree whose limbs are merely a few feet from my balcony. It is nearly as insidious and troublesome as it’s distant cousin that vexed my grandfather so many years ago. It regularly takes a zip line onto the balcony of my neighbor, shimmies around the wall separating our balconies and digs through the potted plants I have out there and gnaws on a wooden table.

Last week, I’d had enough and became livid when I saw the squirrel out on the balcony one day while I was working from home gnawing on a table leg. I became determined to find a solution to keep the squirrel off the balcony. SPIKES, I thought. I then spent an hour driving three quarter inch carpet tacks into extra strength duct tape and placing them along the edge of the balcony. Like Paw Paw before me, I was sure it would keep the my nemesis off the balcony and out of my plants.

As I was eating breakfast the next morning, what did I spy but the dang squirrel on the balcony, perched to begin digging in a pot that I’d transplanted bell pepper plants the day before. I stomped out onto the balcony to shoo the critter away. And what did I witness? But the squirrel running across the spike strips I’d created, unfazed.

Like my grandfather so many years before, I became enraged.

I pulled the box of pepper plants inside before I left for work. Determined I was going to find a way to fix the squirrel that evening. I arrived home to discover the squirrel had been digging in a pot where I’d planted three tomato plants at the same time as the pepper plants. I saw red, considered things for a moment, then decided creating “mulch” with black plastic drop cloth was the answer. I fashioned covers out of black drop cloth and duct tape and considered myself victorious.

The victory was short.

When I arrived home from having lunch with friends on Friday, and discussing the squirrel during, I found several basil plants laying on the balcony where they’d been dug from the small pot they call home. Given the pot is too small to cover with plastic. I decided spikes were once again my best bet. I created a “collar” for the pot with roofing nails and carpet tacks.And as I put it back in its proper place I chuckled as I thought to myself, my God I’ve turned into my grandfather.

I’ve not see my nemesis on the balcony since. However, I could swear I heard a screech from the balcony yesterday morning before I got up. Perhaps my little friend got his paw stuck in a spike as he was attempting to dig up the basil once again.

I can only hope.

Say hello to Rita for me!