Sometimes in this business of writing weekly columns you’re surprised by reactions, or even the lack of them. Your writing sticks out there in cyberspace, in this case, as fair game for engagement or inattention.
After last week’s column about mischievous squirrels in my Easton neighborhood, I was amazed by the response. A neighbor emailed me with his story, which his wife later amplified. Then, my British friend, who subscribes to The Talbot Spy, wrote me twice about his rodent story.
I’ve learned since the summer of 2014 that columns related to politics and animals draw the most comments, either online or by personal email. Even a phone call once and awhile. Because everyone seems to run across a squirrel or vice versa, these omnipresent animals have created a persona of their own—with stories by frustrated humans in large supply.
So, worthy readers, I feel compelled to bring forward two more stories, one belonging to Homeowner #9, and the other to a gentleman in Dorset, England.
Homeowner #9: This (the column) just reminded me of an incident from about 8 or 9 years ago. Our daughter (perhaps 3 or 4 at the time) was sitting on our living room sofa, facing the fireplace. All day long my wife had heard noises in our chimney. Having long experience with starlings falling down chimneys and coming into buildings, I coached my wife (from my safe distance at work) to put a blanket over the fireplace screen so that when the bird reached the bottom, it would not see daylight, and perhaps would rest for a moment, making it easier to capture and return to the great outdoors. If a bird is still, you can throw a blanket or towel over it, scoop it up, and carry it to the door. Again, I have repeated experience with this from a building with an uncapped chimney where my office was formerly located.
Our toddler daughter walked out to the kitchen, found her mama, and said, rather matter-of-factly,”a little face was peeking out of the fireplace.” My wife came running back, but too late. The squirrel–not a bird–had pushed past the fireplace screen and was on the loose inside the house. The volume of my wife reaction, in retrospect, may have further heightened the furry rodent’s sense of panic in these unfamiliar environs. But she (my wife)) had the presence of mind to close as many interior doors as possible, then propped the front door open. Our tree-dwelling neighbor soon found his (her? My wife didn’t have the opportunity to ascertain) way back into its customary environment.
We have a new chimney cap that, so far, has prevented recurrences of such uninvited visits.
Wife’s turn:
I feel the need to fill in a few more details that my husband didn’t include, since when the incident below took place, he was happily participating in a local meeting…
The incident was actually about 6 years ago, and my daughter (6 at the time) was sitting in the living room reading a book to her little brother (1 and a half). We also had a brand-new-to-us 2-year-old cat in the house.
I sequestered the cat, and my children into the kitchen and stood on the steps, wildly waving my hands to show the squirrel that the front door was open. However, before the squirrel noticed the front door was open, he/she could see shrubs through the glass panes on the top half of our side screen porch door, and in a move somewhat akin to that of the squirrel in the Christmas Tree in “National Lampoons Christmas Vacation,” leapt over and across the dining room table only to splat against the glass. Undeterred, it did a 180-degree turn and ran back towards the living room, but thankfully ran out the front door instead. Slamming the front door shut, I breathed, then found my phone and sent my husband one text message: “It was NOT a bird. It was a SQUIRREL.”
Even my son, who was relatively young, remembers the incident.
My Dorset, England friend: We were amused by your article about squirrels in the Talbot Spy on Tuesday. We are at war with a pesky grey rodent who has been baiting Tara (their dog) by running along the electricity cable suspended above our garden & has now descended to ground level to feast itself on our supposedly squirrel-proof bird feeder.
The squirrel has a head start & has so far outrun Tara to escape up the apple tree, but it is only a matter of time before she makes contact & the rodent loses its tail as did Squirrel Nutkin in Beatrix Potter’s book of the same name.
For the benefit of your readers, perhaps you should mention that Tara is a Jack Russell (I believe that her female counterpart in the US is known as a Jane Russell). She is also known as Tara Longbody as she has a long body & short legs & is built for comfort – not for speed. My wife is going to apply grease to the pole we use to hang the bird food containers – something to do with discouraging squirrels from climbing the greasy pole of life. Much to our irritation, our athletic rodent has this morning been joined by a chum, so word is getting round the squirrel community in Milton on Stour that there are free lunches available chez nous.
As a rather benign columnist, I deliberately have avoided using names. It’s just the custom I have followed, unless I specifically have sought permission to identify my sources.
The squirrels don’t care about their victims’ names or personal histories. They are indiscriminate in their mischief-making.
Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.
Editor’s Note: For another look at squirrel battles, please go here
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