Backyard entertainment

Every year, I wait until it snows before I feel justified in putting out food for the birds. But squirrels think it's for them too, and their tactics in getting it are so entertaining that I figure they earn it. This squirrel and a buddy made short work of a wheel of seeds I had hung from a tree limb, manoeuvring it up onto the branch for easier eating. Photo series by John Denniston.

The initial approach; squirrel and dangling food.

Okay, got it.

And. . . here's how you have a meal hanging upside down.

If I had my way, I would fill my back yard with bird feeders that would attract every known variety of bird in the city. But alas, there's the issue of rats. I hate to recall the number of expensive bird-feeders I have thrown out over the years because no matter how sophisticated they were, or how careful I was, vermin were the result.

Snow changes the equation, however. When birds might be starving because their usual food sources are covered up, who cares about rats? Every year, I secretly look forward to the brief period of icy weather when I can feel justified in putting out bird food. When the time came this year – late because of our unusually warm winter – I was reminded again of why I’m always fascinated. Bird food transforms the back yard from a quiet place to a playground where something is always happening. It’s entertainment at a bleak time of year; a reminder of how you don’t have to go far from home to glimpse another world.

Possibly because I have more time now, possibly because our cat is gone (sadly, our incomparable Mr. Darcy died of leukemia more than a year ago), possibly because the bushes have grown closer to the kitchen window, I’m noticing the backyard wildlife more than ever this winter. How some birds arrive in flocks, swooping like fireworks past the windows, filling the yard with their darting and chattering, then suddenly, as if rush-hour was over, disappearing. How when the temperatures rise, the flickers monopolize the newly melted birdbaths, fluffing themselves up to twice their size, while their patient mates await their turn. How everyone else disappears when the raucous, swaggering blue jays arrive to make kamikaze dives at the feeders, spilling seed on the ground so they can eat it there. Squirrels, the clowns of the back yard, immune to ridicule, contort and connive to get at the feeders, hanging upside down to eat their meal if that’s what it takes.

This entertainment will end when the bird feeders empty in the spring and the birds and squirrels return to their usual fare. As will the rats, who no doubt are enjoying this winter bounty as much as anyone. Quietly, and at night, so I don’t have to know about it.

My photo of squirrel, feeder and apple tree. Mr. Squirrel was reluctant to leave his potential lunch.

This was the wheel of seed the squirrels were attacking. The birds didn't seem interested in it, so I didn't mind the squirrels getting it. Eventually, one cut through the string, grabbed the whole thing in its mouth and took off for the hedge, closely chased by an indignant buddy. That's the last I saw of it.

The real bird food. It's protected from the rain, and covered with cayenne pepper, which deters squirrels but does not affect birds.