Here it is, almost a year has passed since Red did the same. Darkness had just settled in on a cold and blowy February evening. I was looking for some warmth in a long distance phone call to my wife in Toronto when I was surprised to see a pair of tiny black eyes fixed on mine, gazing with interest at me from a window beam. I had related last years encounter with Red to my wife Linda, who wisely determined not to spend the frosty winter in our summer cottage, and she had shared my laughter and my pain.
It seemed now, that the son of Red had taken up the bird feeder challenge. The feeder was located in an impossible to reach perch, hanging free about ten feet off the deck and well away from any climbing or jumping aids. As I watched him in the dim porchlight, it became clear to me that this young Turk of a red squirrel was in much better shape than his father. He appeared stronger, more vital and seemed ready to meet the task at hand. I know I had mentioned in my first story that I didn’t feel I had the right to name one of God’s free creatures, but to avoid confusion as I continue this update, I choose to. The deceased father will now be referred to as “Eric the Red” and his acrobatic son as “Leif the Lucky”, after of course, the famous father and son team of Nordic explorers.
As I watched, giving Linda a play by play Foster Hewitt approach to the action, Leif propelled himself a good five feet from one vertical window post to another. A substantial accomplishment. There was little doubt in my mind, what was on his. I can picture Eric the Red, having a father to son talk with Leif, while looking longingly at the overflowing bird feeder, saying “ One day son, this will all be yours. It caused me more than a few gray hairs, but I know you can do it. You’re bigger, you’re stronger and by gum, you’re smarter.”
This winter has been much colder than last year and as a result I have seen less of Leif than I did of his father. But there was no mistaking the family resemblance and the tenacity applied to their goal.
I watched him negotiate his approach, losing him occasionally in the darkness. I had to hang up the phone in order to get a better sighting, promising to call back with further developments. I strained my eyes, trying to locate Leif and not finding him, assumed he had retired to fight another day. But as I went to turn out the porchlight, I was shocked to see the illusive bird feeder rocking violently back and forth. There, in the last possible place I was expecting to find him, was Leif, feasting happily and victoriously on the seeds and grain. I’ve never heard a squirrel laugh before. Actually it sounded more like a gloating cluck. I can’t say he didn’t deserve to be elated by his accomplishment.
It seemed now that the tables had turned. Not five minutes ago I was laughing at him, and now I was the one with the puzzled and confused look and he, the one with the secret. I still have no idea how he managed his feat in the minute or so that I lost him to the dark. I watched him feed for a while, wondering how he would dismount from his lofty perch. I went to pick up the phone to tell Linda of the latest news and when I turned back to the feeder, I thought I was seeing double. Either Leif had a tail on both ends of his body or there were two squirrels now gorging in the feeder.
Now you can’t tell me these guys don’t communicate. Leif had obviously passed on his secret to success very quickly and accurately to his sibling. There was no way that his guest could have figured out the route to the fruit without instruction. It seemed apparent to me that Leif and his companion were mocking me and determined to keep me scratching my head as long as they could. I went out the front door to witness their precarious descent. After they had their fill, knowing I was watching, they glanced at each other and after laughing at me one more time, literally flew off the feeder. Leif took the aerial path to a large white pine more than twenty feet away and his buddy chose the softer landing of a snowbank fifteen feet below.
Leif and his friends now eat regularly at my restaurant. Usually after dark and always without revealing their secret passage. Eric would have been proud. Linda feels I have been far too obsessed with my red squirrel friends and tells me the effects are quite obvious. Gee! Do ya’ think!
Dan Blix
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