God Love Her

The squirrels in the woods have always trusted me. They saw that I kept one of their own in superior fashion. I never encouraged them (or any birds but hummers) to eat in the yard because I knew they would be drawn to the food on the porch if they got too close.  I already have four patched places in the screens due to the constant attention of the Gentleman Caller squirrel.

Gentleman Caller built two nests (as squirrels will do) this year - both in the tree closest to the porch. His main home is perched almost exactly over the spot at which we buried Squirrel. That place will now be forever called the Pet Cemetery after Jack deduced that there was room in that walled flower bed to also bury the cat.

Today, I went about changing everything. I laid the big round candy-cooling marble over the newly dug area and covered it with leaves. I sat Squirrel's garden statute on top of it and filled the tray with nuts from the freezer. Squirrel loved to climb on the statue, sit in the tray, have a Vanilla Wafer.

Bird feeders have been retrieved from the garage, filled and hung. Wind chimes (the sound of which Squirrel clearly disliked intensely) have been untied once again and are singing in the wind. On this late afternoon, the sun has shown for almost an hour and the birds are at the feeders. A small squirrel whom I've never seen has already learned to snatch the Cardinals' sunflower seeds. The wren couple has moved to the back yard - I usually gave them food at the front door.

Gentleman Caller has mewed and searched through the glass in the screened door. He's investigated the little grave and discovered the pecans which are a foreign food for him. He's made several trips "upstairs" with nut in tow.

On a grim looking day (thundering now) the yard is full of vigorous life. So many times I opened the door for Squirrel to check if she had had enough of porch life and felt confident to go out. She never would. Gone now. God Love Her.