Wild Kingdom

     As I sit at the computer and gaze out our back sliding door, I am struck by the number and different varieties of birds who fly in and out of the back deck.  Simply by putting up two songbird feeders and a hummingbird feeder, we have created our own small nature preserve.  Every day dozens of finches,  chickadees, towhees, wrens, and of course, sparrows vie for spots at the feeding stations.  We had never even seen goldfinches around here before and now, with their special feeder, I have counted nine perched on it at once.  Usually only one hummingbird uses its feeder; probably the same one, since  hummingbirds are so territorial.  I have seen another one attempt to use it, but then is chased away by the rightful owner.  Only in the late evening have I seen more than one on the feeder.  My sister has named this phenomenon "last call."  Hummingbirds go into an almost hibernating state during the night, since they require so much sustenance during the day when active.  Because that last bit of nightly nutrition is so important, they seem to cut each other some slack right before it gets dark.  One evening in early autumn, when it was still warm at dusk, I sat quietly on the deck.  Suddenly, four hummingbirds flew onto the feeder and shared their last drink of the day.  It was an other-worldly experience;  almost like being in a dream.  They drank quietly for quite some time, and then sated, flew off for the night.

     We have another songbird and another hummingbird feeder in the front yard.  This hummingbird feeder seems to be ruled by a different hummer.  I say that because he has a different style.   While the one in the back sits motionless while feeding, looking up from time to time, the one in front keeps flapping its wings while it sucks the nectar.  The backyard hummer doesn't seem to go out front;  rarely have I seen a skirmish.  But I have seen some pretty daring feats by our resident squirrels.

   There are two main squirrels who live together in the hole of a tree in the back yard.  One is brownish-gray and the other, an unusual, sleek black.  His name is Shadow.  His friend is Gray (after our former California Governor, Gray Davis.)  Shadow's main mission in life is to get seeds from the bird feeders.  In the past, he has been fairly successful.  Our first songbird feeder out front was made, of all things, plastic.  Often, Shadow would be seen hanging by his back toe-nails, chewing away at the top of the feeder.  It didn't take him long to hit the jackpot.  Our next feeder, after the first was demolished, had a supposedly "squirrel-proof" canopy that sat on top.  That was a minor distraction to Shadow.  He immediately climbed over it, a mere inconvenience, and  began chewing away until it, too, was destroyed. We finally ordered the super-deluxe, absolutely-squirrel-proof-or-your-money-back feeder.  Built like a tank, it was steel with smooth sides that no squirrel could conquer.  Shadow took this on as his personal challenge.  Try as he might, he could not get down to the feeder, with its built in canopy.  But that did not deter him.  Perched on the tree trunk directly opposite the feeder by about six feet, he hurled himself into space and tried to grab hold of the feeder from the side.  Unfortunately for Shadow, this was impossible and he fell to the ground.  Never one to give up, he kept at this for most of the afternoon.  By evening, he had called it quits.

     Grim determination has always held a soft spot in my heart.  My husband  and I agreed that we had to provide Shadow and Gray their own dining experience.  The next day, Rich perused squirrel feeders from the squirrel-proof bird feeder catalog.  In it was pictured a small, scale-model  green, metal Adirondack chair with a squirrel seated properly, gnawing on a corncob.  "That's it! We've got to get this one!"  I agreed and one was ordered.  We anxiously awaited its arrival. 

     When it was delivered, Rich immediately installed it in the tree in front and screwed in the corncob-like squirrel chow.   It didn't take very long before Blackie settled in for a good chew.  But to this day, neither he nor his buddy sit properly in the chair as demonstrated in the catalog.  They both sit on the arm rests.  And, I'm happy to report, there has been no more squirrel-hurling at the bird feeder.