Tales from the Bark Side

By Keith Ross | The Daily Journal

Published Saturday, March 22, 2008

Welcome back to the bark side of life here in Ottertail where on this Tuesday morning, a cold damp mist hangs over the ground like a light grey cloak; wispy and eerily pronouncing, as a harbinger often does, the arrival of a long awaited spring.

Snow lies in patches on the ground; the remnants of months of white dominance and chilly consequences. Winter wanes. With warmer days allegedly ahead of us, let us turn to a story that just may warm your heart in the meantime.

Last week, we had part one of a tale by a fourteen year old boy that graces these pages with his wit and self deprecating charm that usually can be only found in the skill of much older writers.

Nathan Johnson completes his contribution to our “Logic vs. Instinct” contest this week and I'm sure you'll enjoy his tale about that sagacious squirrel. Let's re-cap last week's column and carry on from there.

“In my first actual run-in with squirrel geniuses, my family had made a series of “bagel-bird feeders” at an event at a local wildlife center. They consisted of a bagel, smeared with peanut butter, and sunflower seeds. Stupidly, we assumed that birds would be the only ones attracted to these delicacies.

“As is usually the case, we were wrong. Two days after we put the feeders out, we noticed another visitor making a very obvious beeline for the feeders; it was a large, fluffy, and apparently well-fed gray squirrel.

“By this time we had only one left in the house, so we decided that if he was going to steal our feeders, he was going to have to work for it. So saying, we attached our final prize to a very thin twig.

Sure enough, our fiend, er, friend showed up, ready for more. He seemed to figure that this twig was a little too thin for his weight.

“He was probably right. So, he shinnied up a birch tree, and went out on a limb (no pun intended). Once on the limb, he jumped from the limb onto the shrub above the feeder.

“Then, very slowly, he wrapped his tail around the branch, and gently lowered himself down to the feeder.

“Dangling there by his tail, he reached his grubby squirrel paws out, seized the yarn that was hanging the bagel, and paw-over-paw pulled the feeder up toward his gaping jaws.

“He gnawed through the yarn, and carried it off. We thought he was headed home for good, but no. After depositing his latest steal, he came back, and shinnied up a different tree.

“He went up to a fork in this tree, and what should be there but one of his stolen bagels, stashed away until he could come back for it.

“Was it instinct or logic? Sorry, folks, but that was cold, hard, and unbeatable genius.”

“In the summer of 2007, my brother and I had a run-in with a self-indulgent chipmunk that continuously scaled the metal bird feeder pole and gorged himself on expensive black-oil sunflower seeds.

“After failed attempts at “shouting him away,” we decided to try a garden hose and a net (supposedly, we were going to kidnap the chipmunk and release him on a faraway island).

“We were wrong. Not only are chipmunks geniuses, but they also have an unlimited supply of energy and stamina.

“Unfortunately, my brother and I failed to see what we were up against, and continually harassed the little raider in hopes of capturing him.

“We did eventually capture him, but, not thinking again, we released him in the woods a short walking distance from the feeder. Three days later, our pesky friend was back.”

I'm sure we could write about those bushy-tailed bandits for a long time running but young Nathan has nailed the subject matter to a tee.

The contest is intended to be inclusive to all sorts of critters and while squirrels are good fodder for funny antidotes, I'm willing to bet that there are more than a few examples of logic or instinct still left to be shared by you my intrepid readers.

You can enter the “Logic vs. Instinct” contest by emailing me at info@rosswoodkennels.com or write to me via snail mail (an Internet term, not mine) to Keith Alan Ross, Richville, MN 56576 or if you are a bit shy about writing a story, you can phone me at 218-495-2195.

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Keith Alan Ross writes from his home in New York Mills.