Squirrels – even though they totally trash the front yard with acorn shells from my pin oak trees, and even drag big acorns in from a couple blocks away, you still gotta’ love em’. They hang upside down from the trunk of the tree, chase each other around through the branches and drive the dogs absolutely bonkers when they hang there and taunt them.
Last Saturday morning, I sat overlooking a big soybean stubble field in a last ditch effort to put venison in the freezer. The end of the pasture directly behind me was home to numerous Hedge Apple trees. Hedge Apples are a staple for squirrels during winter, and the ground beneath each tree was littered with piles of freshly chewed Hedge Apple flesh.
The morning was as calm as Kansas mornings ever get; I don’t like deer hunting when it’s so calm. A good breeze moves the tall grass and tree limbs around slightly, making a littler noise in the process and allowing sometimes bumbling hunters like myself to get away with a little more noise and movement. The resident squirrels must have suddenly noticed my presence and I soon became the object of their scolding. Squirrels use a barking/chattering sound to scold intruders and once you know that sound you will never forget it. They start with sort of a barking sound followed by several quieter almost clucking sounds, during which their bushy tails twitch and jerk with each note, and then the whole ballad repeats itself over and over again.
The first irritated squirrel made its displeasure known from somewhere to my left, barking and clucking incessantly for several minutes, then a second displeased protester joined in from my right. Its scolding began like the cries of a blue jay and ended with muffled little clucks. I figured by then that every deer in the township was on high alert, and just when I figured the woods couldn’t get any louder, a third objector joined the clamor.
This went on nonstop for a good twenty minutes, then as if someone had thrown a switch, all was instantly silent! I’ve never heard scolding squirrels quiet themselves so abruptly. It kind of spooked me; I was afraid Bigfoot or Moth Man might be about to pounce on me from behind!
Suddenly the overhanging branches in front of me began to dance slightly, first one then another, as if a breeze had developed. “Odd,” I thought “that the whole tree would not move at once.” I began hearing a muffled chattering sound of some sort and looked up to see one of the resident squirrels that disapproved of my presence, starring at me about six feet above my head and rebuking me with funny little mumbling sounds as it danced from limb to limb.
I went home to breakfast with no deer but satisfied that I had been in the front row for yet another theatrical performance by some of God’s critters. As noisy and obnoxious as they are, and as badly as I’d like to run the whole lot of em’ from my lawn, they are comical and amazing little creatures … and they taste just like chicken.
Steve Gilliland, Inman, can be contacted by email at [email protected].