a bone to pick

Tuesday at 5 p.m. I exitted the workshop, dusted off my jeans, grabbed a cold drink and glided into a deck chair facing the sun. I leaned my head back, shut my eyes. Bliss. Five seconds later an irritating sound chewed through my first dream.

I opened one eye to behold a black squirrel chewing on something atop a nearby fence rail. He was really going at it. Walnut? Piece of an old birdhouse? I wasn't sure, but I knew I wanted him to stop so I removed a sandal and tossed it at the fence. The squirrel disappeared, leaving the object of its desire - and ferocious gnawing - behind.

["Where did he get this," I wondered]

["The teeth marks resemble those

on one of my birdhouses"]

Do squirrels have to gnaw to keep their teeth from growing too long? Is that why they'll occasionally destroy the entrance to a birdhouse? Should I throw them a bone once in awhile to keep them away  from my birdhouses, or worse, from the wiring in my attic?

["This is nothing compared to others I've seen"]

What say you?

Photos by GH

 

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