Rosslyn Redux

Tag: Squirrel

  • Adirondack Birding and Squirreling

    Indigo Bunting (Passerina cyanea)
    Was it an indigo bunting (Passerina cyanea) I spied at our bird feeder?

    Rather than whining through another verse of the Bali Blues on my harmonica, I awoke on my first morning back at Rosslyn in a fever to jump-start autumn/winter rituals. Top of the list was setting up the bird feeders in anticipation of Adirondack birding. A recent radio report on Vermont Public Radio had mentioned that October through April is the recommended bird feeding season. Sorry birds!

    I hasten to add (for the sake of Ellen Pober Rittberg (@ellen_rittberg) and any other seasoned birders who I may have inadvertently mislead) that I’m not 100% certain I saw an indigo bunting. The size and general description in our bird books were spot-on, but the coloration was considerably darker than the flashy blue in the illustrations. And I realize that the beginning of November is late in the migration calendar for an indigo bunting to be spotted this far north. Perhaps this helps?

    “It displays sexual dimorphism in its coloration; the male is a vibrant blue in the summer and a brown color during the winter months, while the female is brown year-round.” (Wikipedia)

    Either the late date explains the closer-to-blue-black coloration of the bird I spied at the feeders hanging in our ginkgo or else I’ve misrepresented the fancy fellow. (All other suggestions are welcome in the comments below!)

    In any case, kamikaze chickadees began dive bombing me while I was installing the bird feeders despite the fact that all four feeders were empty. At first. Until they weren’t. I stuffed them with black oil sunflower seeds. And waited. But the birds were gone! So much for Adirondack birding…

    The squirrels were considerably less bashful, especially this coal black fellow who was totally focused on sunflower seed nirvana all day.

    Adirondack Squirreling
    Forget Adirondack birding…
    Time for Adirondack squirreling!

    Of course, this warmed up the ongoing debate with my bride about the merit of feeding squirrels. Remember our fox and squirrel adventures last year?

    I’ve accepted that I’m not making any headway toward convincing my haven-for-wildlife-unless-they’re-predators bride that we should feed songbirds, not squirrels. Perhaps its time to swap Adirondack birding for Adirondack  squirreling aspirations? Although, the latter conjures up the image of my bearded, red and black check wool coated, Daniel Boone hat wearing, shotgun toting alter ego  trudging through the snow.

    I suppose it doesn’t much matter if we feed the birds or the squirrels, especially since the latter inevitably results in considerably wilder window safaris. And yet I still have some misgivings.

    The idea started logically enough. Sprinkle excess food on the stone walls, etc. so the squirrels will not try to “rob” food from the bird feeders.

    Unfortunately, the squirrel population mushroomed last winter and the songbird population shrank. Are the wee feathered critters intimidated by the squirrels? I suspect the equation is a bit more complicated.

    You see in addition to squirrels, my bride’s robust feeding regimen also attracted a healthy host of doves and pigeons. And crows. It seems that the density of big critters discourages the little songbirds, but I’m venturing into the land of brazen hypothesis here. With plenty of plump squirrels and pigeons waddling around, it was only a matter of time before savvy foxes and hawks got wind of the Rosslyn buffet. I suspect that it doesn’t take too many fox attacks and hawk attacks before the songbirds wise up and search for friendlier dining.

    Stay tuned for further developments.

    In the mean time, I’ll enjoy the abundance of songbirds that have been flocking to our feeders over the past couple of days. And the endless Canada Geese migrating south, many of which stop on Rosslyn’s waterfront to spend the night. There must have been three hundred geese standing along the shoreline and bobbing in the morning waves when I looked out my office window today!

  • Fox & Squirrel

    [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h8vmPSvUNps]

    When I was in middle school my parents moved our family from a circa 1876 manse in Wadhams that they’d restored gradually over a decade, to a new home tucked into a tree-lined meadow near Lake Champlain.

    Formerly part of the Higginson farm, the homeowners association comprised a little over a half dozen camps and homes tucked between Rock Harbor and the Split Rock Wilderness Area. During the next two years before I headed off to boarding school this wild wonderland dished up a daily buffet of adventures.

    Recently I’ve been remembering the spring that we discovered foxes. Or the foxes discovered us. In the spring of 1985 a pair of red foxes got themselves in the family way and unwittingly lured my brother, sister and me into a full-scale Vulpes vulpes obsession.

    Red Fox Kits
    Red Fox Kits (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

    I don’t remember now if there were two or three fox kits, but I do remember that their mother would let them play around the house while she hunted for mice or freshened up the den or got her hair done or whatever it is that vixens do when they get a little time to themselves.

    The kits played and wrestled and chased butterflies and explored while we studied their every move, first from the windows and then from the open front door and then from the steps of the front stoop.

    Day by day they became more comfortable with us, and day by day my brother and sister and I grew more entranced. At first the kits were skittish but they gradually grew more comfortable with us. They tousled and nipped at each other in the sunshine a mere 6 to 10 feet away. As we became more and more obsessed with the idea of diminishing the distance between ourselves and the foxes, they too became curious about us. They watched us and came closer to sniff and inspect.

    I was 13 at the time, the eldest of my siblings, and I probably should have spent more time considering the dangers of interacting with wild animals, but I didn’t. I’d abandoned prudence and reason. The beauty and playful nature of the rapidly growing kits had swept me up, eclipsing any common sense I might have possessed.

    Red Fox cubs.
    Red Fox cubs. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

    No doubt it was my idea to see if we could entice the young foxes into the house. Little by little the kits followed the trail of snacks placed on the steps, on the landing, on the threshold, in the hallway… We gradually lured the young foxes into the kitchen where they sniffed briefly, nibbled the snacks and headed back outside. We were elated.

    In hindsight, there was no meaningful reason to entice the foxes inside except curiosity. And challenge. And the almost primal thrill of interacting with beautiful, wild creatures.

    I’m not quite sure how we managed this without my parents realizing what was going on. Perhaps it was early on weekend mornings. I don’t know, but somehow we managed over several weeks to overcome the foxes’ sense of caution and prudence. And then the adventure ended. I’d like to think we wised up, realized the danger of befriending the kits, the danger of having their mother return when the kits were inside. But probably my parents discovered our misguided obsession and abbreviated the adventure.

    The memories flooded back this winter because that handsome (if somewhat short-legged) fox in the video clip above became a frequent Rosslyn visitor. Perhaps affected by the virtually snow-less conditions or more likely by my bride’s enthusiastic bird and squirrel feeding regimen, the fox made daily — and sometimes twice daily — tours of our front lawn. I was usually the one to spot him early in the morning while feeding Griffin breakfast, though Griffin’s attentive window watching served as a reliable early notification system.

    Handsome fox hunting for mid-morning snack. Gr...
    Fox hunting for mid-morning snack. (Photo credit: virtualDavis)

    It turns out that plump, well-fed squirrels are not only a tasty breakfast for a fox but they are also easy prey, unable to skitter up the ginkgo tree as quickly as necessary to escape the hungry hunter.

    Despite the emotionally disturbing reality of observing any predator-prey showdown, the foxes cunning and efficiency intrigued me in the way the playful kits had more than a quarter century ago. I’ll save details for another time as I know that my bride suffers these descriptions. She’s informed my on multiple occasions that our yard is a safe haven for wildlife, which is a laudable decision, but difficult to enforce. So far we’ve failed to communicate the message to the foxes and hawks… Any suggestions?

  • Fox & Squirrel Revisited

    The Fox (Source: Geo Davis)
    The Fox (Source: Geo Davis)

    I’ve been quick to admit my fascination with the ongoing Rosslyn safari. Predation up close and personal from the comfort of my breakfast table! But this week, I had a change of heart…

    [Note: This multimedia story was originally assembled and published on Storify.com (which has sadly ceased to exist, so you’ve been spared the carnage!) Here is the previous related post, “Fox & Squirrel“.]