The bird feeder I put up several weeks ago became a squirrel restaurant. There have only been three little songbirds on my watch. I've become up close and personal with the squirrels, names and all. Lumpy was skinny and had a severe bot fly infestation when he first started frequenting the feeder. Bot flies are seasonal and only go for squirrels. Yesterday I was admiring how well he has recovered and what a chublet he had become, and then BLAM! A red-tailed hawk swooped down in a flash of feathers and huge wings and disappeared with Lumpy. It happened swiftly and silently, as fast as the blink of an eye. It is my hope that Lumpy didn't know what hit him.
I have reason to believe that either a hawk has a nestin, or they roost and hunt from, one of the tall oaks at my end of the cul-de-sac. I can hear them. For the safety of my squirrel-sized dog, we have locked Juliet's doggie door until further notice.
I have reason to believe that either a hawk has a nestin, or they roost and hunt from, one of the tall oaks at my end of the cul-de-sac. I can hear them. For the safety of my squirrel-sized dog, we have locked Juliet's doggie door until further notice.
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