Squirrels
A quarrel of sparrows caught my attention this morning. Curiously, they were perched, almost a dozen of them, on the balcony grill, very upset and chirping angrily. A pair of parrots added their shrill emergency calls to the confusion. The feeder and bird bath were both full and anyway, the sparrows chirp in a different tenor when they want a refill. These were alarm calls.
Then the sharp chirr-chirr sounded very close at hand. Two squirrels sat amongst the bougainvillea. The badam tree has had a pre monsoon growth spurt and this morning, the squirrels had leaped from the branches onto my balcony. They sat on their haunches, tails up in alarm pose, nibbling the discarded jowar which the careless parrots drop after cracking the grain open. Glancing upwards, I noticed the third one. He was the one the sparrows were agitated about. He sat high in the eaves, within jumping distance of the feeder. He chittered warnings at any sparrow landing on the feeder and flicked his tail to frighten them away. This was a bit cheeky, I thought.
I have no problem with the squirrels but they are aggressively territorial and if they decide they have squatting rights, will defend the feeder and bath against all comers. So out came the long bamboo rod usually reserved for brandishing at the crows and pigeons. But the squirrels don’t seem fazed. It remains to be seen who wins this battle.
The squirrels brought back childhood memories from our bungalow life – squirrel babies were apt to fall out of nests in coconut trees during the monsoons. My mother would scold the cats and dog away, and bring the ragged little ugly baby indoors. It would be reared in a shoe box filled with soft cotton and fed diluted milk from an ink dropper. Most survived and soon left for the wide world of the garden. A couple didn’t make it and we held solemn funerals for them under the papaya trees. I’m pretty sure our cats dug them right out afterwards and had a snack.
One became a pet. Christened Nutty Fruitcake, he lived indoors for many months. Vagabond, our gentleman tomcat and Cherie, our daschund treated him with equal parts disdain and frustrated longing. His main rivals though were Victor and Hugo, our terrapins. A comical running battle ensued between the three for grapes and bits of watermelon. Just as Victor (or Hugo, it was hard to identify them) had wedged the grape in a corner and was preparing to have a leisurely snack, two bright eyes and a bushy tail would appear. One light leap on to his shell and the grape would disappear in front of his incredulous eyes. Victor would then retreat into his shell to sulk until he was cajoled back out by the next piece of fruit. Nutty lived with us happily until the sad day arrived when the call of hormones and that she-devil with the flirty, bushy tail and melting eyes proved too much for him. He would chitter to Mummy while she pottered around in her garden but never entered the house again. Victor at least was glad to see him go.
So for Nutty Fruitcake’s sake and in memory of my mum who loved all animals and plants, I will go easy on these big city descendents. The sparrows and parrots are dear to me but they may have to learn to get along with these bushy tailed, bright eyed rodents who have recently become tenants of my balcony.