In early December we had a new fence installed out back. It’s a big adjustment after nearly 20 years with a backyard wide open to the alley, and feels weird not to be able to see the alley cats coming (although we’ve left plenty of big gaps for them to pass through, as the feral cat highway cuts through our property from front to back).
Here’s the view from the upstairs window:
Yes, there’s a squirrel hanging on the bird feeder. There is very nearly always a squirrel hanging on the bird feeder.
And the view from the basement studio window:
Every time we plant a tree or put up a new feeder or anything I hover at the window like a hyperactive puppy, waiting to see animals interacting with our new stuff. Fittingly, my girl Shorty was the first one over the fence.
She gave me a little scare recently, not showing up here since December 17 so that I was already starting into the rationalising stage of grief, telling myself she’s pretty old for an urban squirrel (going on 4) and reminding myself this is why we don’t fall in love with wild animals and then she sauntered in here on January 3 and started pigging out on seeds like nothing had happened. I had been about to knock on the door four doors down and ask the residents if a squirrel had died in their roof recently, but since she’s fine please don’t anyone tell my 4-doors-down neighbours that she lives in their roof. She’s lived in that house longer than they have.