From my peaceful Sleeping Porch aerie, the dogs and I look out over the back yard. As you can see, if we want to, we can watch the comings and goings of the students and staff of Nebraska Wesleyan University. It can be quite entertaining (especially on those Sundays when the Anachronists are meeting).
I’ve been more irritated than entertained by the antics of the neighborhood squirrels. Not satisfied with the mother lode of acorns the mighty oak trees drop on the front yard each year, those danged tree rats have been systematically peeling the bark from the Buckeye tree in the back yard. That tree was given as a seedling to my Mom when my Dad died. When we moved Mom here to Nebraska from Colorado, we dug up the Buckeye and brought it with us - it was struggling to survive in the dry, sandy Colorado soil. As soon as its roots hit that good, black Nebraska dirt, the Buckeye flourished.
It was probably two Winters ago that I first saw strips of bark in the yard, looked up and noticed that the squirrels had peeled most of the bark off of several small limbs. When Spring came, I held my breath, hoping the Buckeye would recover. The tree did all right that year. But this year, the squirrels are at it again - and the damage is even worse. Many of the larger branches are completely bare, and once the cambium is gone clear around the branch, there’s no recovery.
There’s no way to keep the tree rats from the tree. In fact, one of the branches they’ve peeled bare has been used as a squirrel highway between the Buckeye and the big white pine for years and years.
A query on the internet brought me some really interesting information and even suggestions on how to deal with “skwerls.” Everything from cayenne pepper to firing up a crock pot is discussed (I’m presuming one is to render the little varmints lifeless before putting them into the crockpot, but I’m not sure if you’re supposed to add the cayenne after they’re in the crockpot or before).
At any rate, after a great deal of thought, I’ve decided to treat my little squirrel problem as an study of Natural Selection. If the tree dies, well, then, it dies. Dad died, after all, and ten years later, Mom followed suit. “To everything there is a season,” right?
Plus, then I don’t have to try to figure out a way to outsmart the danged skwerls.
It's all about relinquishing control, isn't it? Mother Nature is a good teacher in that regard. I've had to adopt the same 'natural selection' philosophy with my feral cat project. I could cry all day everytime one of them gets sick and I can't do anything to help them... Or I could hand the reins to Mother Nature and trust that she knows better than I. It's a hard assignment.
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