NINJA Squirrels

I am Ninja! I need tribute!

They were a week old--max: tiny little babies the size of my thumb (and I have small thumbs) that had just a blush of the gray coat they would eventually have. They were a pile of gummy squirrels--soft, moist little bodies that needed a mama. I never embraced anything as wholeheartedly as I did those babies. They needed round the clock feeding--a half-milliliter of formula nursed through a tiny tiny nipple; help peeing and pooping; little faces cleaned and their bed changed often. All six fit into a childs sock. My world orbited around a new star--six tiny squirrels

Fast forward to October. Six fat craziacs were ready to go OUT and be squirrels. The brand spanking new release cage was ready for business and out they went. They were supposed to stay in the cage over the winter--protected from the neighborhood hawk and well fed through the cold months. Trouble is, squirrels are smart and the first chance they got, they were FREE! Out in the big scary winter world.

It was a warm fall and early winter was mild. It's cold now. The babies look like gray footballs--fat and furred. They've set up housekeeping in the shed. They have a family pouch they can all pile into and on the coldest nights they sleep toasty warm. They're spoiled rolly-poly friendly squirrels who  tend to sleep until breakfast is served when I go to let my chickens and big ol' duck out. They expect a gourmet breakfast--veggies, avocado, some tomato or pieces of orange, sunflower seeds-- every morning and after gorging themselves they are considerate enough to share the bounty with the yard squirrels.They are happy to greet any visitors to the backyard and enjoy a skritch or a kiss on a fuzzy nose. The little guys--well--BIG guys-- throw themselves against the glass of  the back door knowing somebody will open it and invite them in to help themselves to the bounty of the nut pitcher that sits just inside. They aren't pets but they're sweet little friends-- AND they are ninjas.

Like any proper ninja they lead ordinary lives in the daytime--going about their squirrley business in the guise of your average, if slightly portly, gray squirrels.

BUT!

In the dark of night when I take dinners to Gordo and Chewy (possums) the ninjas, under the cover of darkness, make their move. You hear them first--"tiktiktik"--"tiktiktik"-- quiet. It's a sound that could be imagination--or  a branch tapping the side of the shed. In the dusk of the neighbor's night light the yard is mostly shadows. Frost sparkles. The outline of a wattle fence marks where in the spring there will be growing things. There's the sound of possums munching. For a minute the walk back to the house looks long and a little intimidating. My heavy barn coat doesn't feel warm enough. Then THUMP! Aggggh! The ninjas strike! Ninja knives dig into my coat and ninja noses snuffle into my pockets looking for the nuts they know will be there. Don't go out to the shed at night without a tribute.

Beware the Ninja squirrels.

Padawan Ninjas