This bird hopper is, at the moment, squirrel free. Notice however the perfect path from tree to feeder that the half dozen or so resident squirrels have trod in their relentless pursuit of a delicious sunflower, safflower and peanut blend.
I have come to recognize several of the rogues. Here are a few who occupy my most wanted list:
No Tail - I don't know how No Tail ended up with a stump where there should be a furry, fluffy tail, but given his proclivity for plundering seed and running amok, I have a feeling it was retribution for some sinister act of squirrel malfeasance.
Mangy - Hideous and diseased, Mangy, with fur covering barely half of his face and body, sends all the little critters running, bird and chipmunk alike. His total lack of remorse is his personal "f*!# you!" to a world that both hates and fears him.
Red - As fearless as she is unprincipled, Red, our lone red squirrel, is pint-sized, whippet quick and willing to take on all challengers in the name of looting.
I am fighting a losing battle. These "pretty rats," as my grandfather used to call them, will win. I wouldn't mind if the squirrels were more like birds, popping over from time to time for a quick snack, but these little flea-infested bastards climb up and plant themselves interminably on the hopper, stuffing their bellies and cheeks with the precious seed while the birds, helpless against the bigger, smarter and stronger rodents, wait. And wait. And wait. Only when the loathsome little devils are satisfied, or if I have chased them away for the billionth time, do the birds get a turn.
No Tail! Mangy! Red! May you find yourselves in an infernal drey when death comes to claim you. May the acorns be hollow and the feeders of hell filled with poison and sand!