The squirrels and I stare at each other across the garden. I used to yell and threaten assault. I’m over that. I’m also over verbal negotiations. They would sit on the top of the fence with evil in their eyes as I explained the bird feeder was not for them but for the robins, cardinals, random blue jay, three mourning doves, numerous sparrows, and a couple other little birds I couldn’t identify. 

I spoke with authority while they sized me up. They understood, I know they did, but the message coming back was they would make their own decisions regarding feathered creatures. 

The cylindrical bird feeder—guaranteed squirrel proof and large bird (vultures?) proof—hung from a 20” metal rod screwed to my ivy-covered fence. 

Did you know a squirrel can hang suspended in air on a diagonal across 20” with one hind foot holding to an ivy vine and one front foot at the base of a bird feeder scooping out seeds without setting off the shut-down mechanism that seals off the seeds from creatures that weigh more than your average bird?

I replaced the 20” rod with a 39” rod with a 1/2” radius, screwed it into the fence at a 45 degree slant, and smiled in victory. For 24 hours.

The alpha squirrel—yes, there is an alpha squirrel, a beta squirrel, a third-rank squirrel, and a small black squirrel that keeps its own company—then jumped off the fence onto the 39” rod about 8” from where it attached to the fence. 

Birdseed spilled to the ground as the rod wobbled and wobbled. A flawless distribution system!

The alpha squirrel then jumped into the fracas of grey squirrels fighting over seeds and bits of fruit, tails shaking, teeth nattering. “Oh, what fun. I’ll do that again.” Up the fence, jump, wobble, sunflower seeds raining on my flattened iris. 

I’m rather fond of the little black squirrel. He waits until the coast is clear and seems less greedy.

Up for this fight, I ordered 4” steel spikes on overnight delivery—spikes that fit into a plastic strip you adhere to a rod, fence, or wherever you don’t want cats, squirrels, or vultures. I ordered more than I could possibly use.

I “loaded” the spikes into the base strips and attached the strips to the rod with the plastic bands used for handcuffs—not only on the top of the rod but around it for 30 inches up from the fence.

I smiled in victory. For 24 hours. Then, passing a window, I saw the rod bouncing up and down.

As I stared, alpha squirrel, now named Brute, ran up the fence, assumed flight position, and vaulted over the spikes, landing on the top 9” of the rod not covered with spikes. The wobble was magnificent!

I ordered more spikes for next day delivery, and covered every inch of that rod. It may be receiving messages from 1000s of lightyears away. 

Brute, beady-eyed, paced the top of the fence, back and forth, squatted, took measurements, paced more, squatted again, and took more measurements: angles, distance, spike length, possibly even wind velocity and direction. Hungry supplicants waited below.

Suddenly Brute crouched and launched himself across the distance, landing on the top of the rod between 4″ sharp steel spikes no more than 1 to 1 1/2″ apart.

It was a courageous jump, magnificent even. With no place to settle in, he turned in one motion, leapt sideways against the wall, and slid down for food. He did this three more times before I turned away in mounting horror.

Those spikes are sharp and dangerous! Sooner or later a squirrel was bound to be injured. 

My feeling became nuanced. Squirrels need to eat too, they are probably kind to their babies, and their calculation and acrobatic skills were improving daily. That must have felt good to them.

For two days I checked for squirrel blood on the ground. I let the feeder go empty. I did not win, they did not win, and the birds did not win.

Perhaps a squirrel was injured—Brute.

Yesterday I put seeds in the feeder again. This morning the beta squirrel made itself skinny and wove slowly, carefully, with precision between the spikes to the top of the rod. No grandiosity, just skill. I named it Dr. Fauci.

Dr. Fauci can only make the rod shake a little bit because it has no safe space along the way to jump up and down to get the wobble going. Squirrel Romper Room days may be over as only a few seeds drop to the ground with each of Fauci’s painstaking efforts. It is a compromise I can live with.

I have not seen Brute, but the birds are returning.

[Note from 24 hours later: Brute returned and learned from watching Dr. Fauci to wiggle between the spikes. His weight alone makes the rod wobble enough to feed his insatiable followers.]

Lessons learned:

1) Squirrels do not obey verbal commands.

2) Squirrels can stretch twice their natural length head to toe.

3) Squirrels discriminate.

4) Squirrels hold grudges.

5) You cannot outmaneuver a squirrel more than 24 hours.