Bold as a cougar, and almost as mean, this little guy has been frequenting my bird feeder since his Mama Squirrel first brought him to the windowsill as a tiny ball of fluff.
I’ve watched him grow from a frightened baby on his first excursion from the nest, to a clumsy teenager, to an active adult, and now I am watching him grow old. Dubbed “Shorty” because he lost a substantial portion of his once long tail, presumably in one of his many brawls, this battle-scarred, old squirrel rules the feeder now that his mama is gone. The other squirrels stay away until Shorty is finished eating if they know what is good for them. Even the quickest of birds keep their distance rather than dart in behind him, as is their habit with the other squirrels. My old cats sleep on the windowsill. Shorty doesn’t care. The young cat lunges forward in attack and slams her face against the glass (I never said she was smart.) Shorty doesn’t even drop his sunflower seed, and this photographer can call his name, knock on the window, and stamp on the floor, and Shorty will not turn around! This shot probably would have ended up framed and on my wall had I actually managed to get something other than a squirrel’s butt nestled in between my cats. Maybe next time.