I’m going to have a bumper crop of strawberries this year. I can barely keep up with picking a little bit in the mornings and afternoons to keep the varmints away, but sadly, it’s an ongoing battle. This little guy was having his breakfast while I was enjoying my coffee.
I’d send Otis after him, but Otis is useless. He eats the berries, too.
I guess it’s an all out war to grow tasty fruit. I can share, a little bit. The squirrel actually looked endearing while he was gnashing away at the berry.
But those mockingbirds better stay away from the blueberries. Or else.
There’s a new enemy on the horizon.
Last year, it was The Mockingbird, mocking me at every turn as he made his way to my blueberries.
This year, it’s the squirrels. Apparently they haven’t had enough of two bird-feeders in the backyard. Or the blueberries. Or the strawberries. No. Evidently not.
This morning as I was making coffee, I happened to catch a glimpse of one squirrel brazenly circling the raspberry bush that’s fully loaded with raspberries just starting to ripen.
That little bugger sat on the wall studying the berries, but I could see his intent. I wasn’t going to have any of that, so I ran outside and shooed him away. I picked the ripe ones and turned around, victorious, to stick my tongue out at him.
It was only a small victory. He knows I’m gone for the rest of the day.
Next week, though…squirrel stew.
I was already indignant with the mockingbirds eating all my blueberries.
This morning I woke up to another indignity. I caught a great big ole fat squirrel on my feeder (not John’s lesser, rejected one) and that little sonovagun was eating the birdseed right out of the top of the feeder.
How in the world did he get that open?
Let me tell you he was going to town in there, too. I did a double take when I first saw it because I wasn’t sure it was, in fact, a squirrel. Oh, yes it was, and that little chunky monkey was getting fatter on my nickel. Um, birdseed.
The cardinals were a little put out by it, too, because they were dive-bombing the feeder like a bunch of World War II aces.
It was rather entertaining right up until I’d remember I was insulted by the squirrel, then I’d be all mad again and everything.
Of course, I wasn’t so mad that I didn’t see the hilarity of it, so I grabbed the camera so I could share it.
Because I love you like that, dear reader.