When the vernal pool is a field of grass, no water in sight (but maybe somewhere), things are different. I have set up a little bird feeding station where I watch birds that come for the “morning rush hour.”     Refer to earlier post: What is a Vernal Pool?

Have I told you about this critter who has been eating my bird seed? I’ve seen him, standing like a groundhog just come out of his hole, sniffing the air around him. Listening. His hole is very different from the mole (or groundhog or squirrel) hole. It’s flat and hardly noticeable on the other side of the fence on the bank of the “pool.” He’s two or three times bigger than the gray squirrel. The top half of him is gray, and the bottom half is reddish brown, with a long fuzzy tail. He greedily eats up the seed I left on the sidewalk for the birds. Last night, when I closed the library, I swept all the seed off the walk so there wouldn’t be anything for him. As I surfed the internet looking for something that could help me identify him, I concluded he was a Marmot. Either a Yellow-bellied or a Hoary. Maybe.

But when I arrived at my bird station this morning, my problem was not this bigfoot cousin to the squirrel, but a gray squirrel himself (Western Gray Squirrel?). I put only one pile of seed on the sidewalk (I usually put four) and one on the seed platform beside the birdbath. Then I sat down with my notebook to record what birds came. I chased that squirrel away four times before I finally gave up. There wasn’t anyone to see how stupid I looked, chasing a squirrel with a stick. The birds still came. No doubt they know how to deal with squirrels.

The squirrel is now hogging the one pile of bird seed on the sidewalk. At the platform are a House Sparrow, Lark Sparrow, Oak Titmouse, and another. All took off in a flash (who knows why?) Very alert. A squirrel won’t pull anything on them.

Things are a little livelier than usual. The squirrel added drama to an otherwise quiet, peaceful morning.

So, instead of trying to eradicate the squirrel, I’ll just have to accept him and figure out how to adjust my own actions. I’d like to get a gun and shoot him! But I probably wouldn’t be any better with the gun than with the rocks I tried to throw at him.

What I’ll do: only put out two piles of seed. One on the platform and one on the sidewalk. The birds will have to be early to get their meal.

Next day:

I didn’t put out any seed. No squirrel. It’s quiet. A riveting sound above me caused me to look up. The White-breasted Nuthatch was pecking at the building. Was he trying to tell me he wanted his usual meal? An Oak Titmouse flew in and looked around. Nothing there. On he flew to another restaurant. At least they have the water at the birdbath. The nuthatch and House finch both stopped for a drink before going on.

No squirrel! Though, without the seed, there are less birds, too. Do I want the squirrel for the sake of feeding a few more birds? Or do I feed less birds in order not to feed the squirrel?

Isn’t that the problem churches face? Taking care of “their own” versus helping the dysfunctional and homeless? How do you serve people when they all drive each other away?

They could take a lesson from the squirrel and birds. Maybe. We’ll see tomorrow.