The strange thing is that when Middle One, eating his morning cereal at
the breakfast table and watching me banging on the kitchen window and shaking
my fist at my fluffy tailed nemeses, pondered in a tone all bemused and
rational: “Mummy, why are you perfectly happy to feed one type of creature but not
another?” he stopped me dead in my tracks. Because that’s exactly
what I used to say to my Grandfather when he went bonkers about the
squirrels stealing his bird feed.
Am I turning into my Grandfather, I wonder?
“It’s not that I mind them taking the nuts,” I replied, sounding reasonable (I had to make considerable effort). “It’s just that they’re chewing
through my lovely wooden bird feeder shaped like a little house that I bought
at the Chelsea Flower Show. (All true.)
So, later I googled: “poisonous to squirrels” and up popped a whole list
of websites catering for people with a murderous loathing for the little critters. There really is something for everyone out there in Internet land. And
that’s not what I intended. I don’t want to kill a squirrel, and certainly not
in the name of feeding a few birds. I merely want to deter it/them from
attacking my little wooden house with the slate roof that’s hanging prettily from
the magnolia tree.
Cayenne pepper! It said further down, just below all the support groups
for squirrel haters. Exactly the sort of top tip I was looking for. Squirrels
can’t abide it apparently and birds don’t give a fig. Perfect. So I shook some liberally all over the peanuts… and the bird feeder. Job done. Or so I thought. But
the wretched furry rats were back at it, gnawing the wooden corners, the very next
morning.
More banging on the window…
What I need is something to stick the cayenne pepper to the corners of
the feeder, I thought to myself, taking up the challenge with a worrying sort of
geriatric tenacity. And that’s where the vaseline comes in. I mixed up a marvellous
paste of the stuff: petroleum jelly infused with cayenne pepper. Yum. And now it’s
working a treat. The garden is squirrel free … and full of tits (no sniggering
at the back).
Okay, so it may seem a touch eccentric, not to say a little desperate, but it must run in the family because now I come to think of it I remember
what my Grandfather resorted to in his frenzied quest to stop the
squirrels climbing up the rather grand bird feeder that stood in the middle of
his immaculate lawn: he greased the pole with engine oil - and I don’t
even think it worked.
You just can’t fight that sort of genetic destiny.
Now follow me on Twitter
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Love it, cheered up my long journey back to the country where we don't feed the birds in the summer (so called). But will remember the tip for when the squirrel wars start again in the autumn!
ReplyDeleteThanks so much for that, Amersham Life. I'm only feeding them with such enthusiasm at the moment because of fancy new feeder. Tend to forget in the winter when they really need it! x
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