They’re sitting in my trees looking too wise,
Their little furry heads in a whirl.
Trying to outsmart them, still I surmise
There’s another trick in each squirrel.
It started when the bird feeders were hung,
Inviting our dear feathered neighbors
And saw that the furry ones, many, far-flung
Could make a big laugh of our labors.
Out of the woods, they came subtly scrambling,
Their numbers increasing each day.
On each of my new defenses I’m gambling
I can thwart their ingenious way.
They would empty the feeders before birds arrived;
I got one that was squirrel proof instead.
The weight of the squirrel would pull down the sides;
Covering feed holes; now birds would be fed.
They made naught of my efforts when in a tree hung
From a bracket, holding it out.
They could get a bite if with four paws they clung
To the tree and reach in with their mouth.
We put up and with smooth duct pipe surrounded
A new and formidable post.
Now it was hoped their attempts were confounded,
Defeating the vast, furry host.
When moved to the post where I now hoped the best,
From the birdbath, they leaped on with ease,
While I gritted my teeth over each little pest;
Their extermination would please.
Now the birdbath is moved a good distance away,
And I gloat with victorious glee
As they leap to the post, slide down all the way,
And go back to their homes in the trees.
So they just sit there, looking too wise,
Their little squirrel heads all a-whirl.
I’m keeping one step ahead, but surmise,
They’re recruiting a smart flying squirrel.
©2010 Carol Morfitt