Squirrely Neighbors

When Hurricane Allison swept through the Philadelphia area recently, a lot of people were flooded out of their homes or left to bail out their basements. My basement was a bit soggy and damp, but my main storm-related problems were at the other end of the house. Hordes of water-logged squirrels abandoned their soaked tree lodges to take up shelter in my attic.

The mayhem started at about 3 a.m. And it continued for most of the day as what sounded like dozens of squirrels quarreled and battled over rights to the dry accommodations. Eventually things quieted down - the winners settled in and waited out the foul weather in luxury, while the losers skulked off to find another vacant attic to stake a claim to.

It's not that my attic space had been entirely peaceful before the storm. In fact, after I had the squirrels' favorite tree cut back, the chimney repaired and the chewed up soffets replaced (at a cost of about $2000) early last spring, the house was an entirely squirrel-free zone for maybe 1 week before the persistent little home invaders found a new way in. Since then I've hosted several squirrel families, witnessed - or at least overheard - several births and been distracted from my work by the relentless cries of the nesting babies just above my computer. The blessed events would have been happier for me if the furry little bundles of joy hadn't passed the long hours while mom was out foraging by teething on the infrastructure of my house and, occassionally, the wiring and phone lines.

But the uninvited guests aren't totally unwelcome. They're always ready to provide a little free entertainment and comic relief from the stresses of daily life. Just yesterday, as I was washing some breakfast carrots for the bunnies, a squirrel perched on the rose bush trellis in my backyard caugh my attention. All I could see was the bushy tail, twitching and waving with excitement. The little varmint seemed to be battling the rose bush, or possibly trying to devour its thorny branches.

I've never seen a squirrel demonstrate any serious interest in roses before, so the bunnies' breakfast would just have to wait until I got to the bottom of this bizarre behavior. As I approached the bush, what I discovered was a hungry juvenile who had taken refuge among the thorns to enjoy a quiet banquet of bread. But the large slice, which was as big as the would-be banqueter, was caught in the bush. Pulling and yanking this way and that, he finally freed his reluctant dinner and hauled it - with remarkable grace and speed - across the yard and up the back fence where found a comfortable post to enjoy his oversized catch. Where's my camera when I really need it?

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