​​​​​​Because humor is funnier when you know it's true.

Squirrel wars   

​After a life of apartment and condo living, my wife and I finally bought a real home.  It was a brick colonial nestled on the edge of a small patch of woods.  It had a split rail fence with inner wire mesh, surrounding the backyard, and was perfect for containing our curious Cairn terrier.  And the fence bordered against the woods, so it was also a perfect setup for placing bird feeders.  We could place feeders immediately on the other side of the fence, keeping seed debris in the woods and keeping feeding wildlife out of the reach of our four-legged varmint hunter.  Life was good. 

We bought our first feeder, a simple open design with perches.  I learned that “bird” feeder was a gross misnomer for this device, as it soon became a squirrel buffet.  It was upsetting to my wife that the poor birds were being denied their winter nutrition, and so she convinced me that we should buy a “squirrel-proof” feeder. 

We checked various designs and found a pole-mounted one that looked very effective.  It had a carefully counter-weighted perch that allowed for several birds to sit and eat, but heavier animals sitting on the perch would cause it to move down, shutting off the window to seed supply.  Sold!

I installed and filled the feeder and anxiously watched from the kitchen window for the results.  The squirrels that tried leaping onto the perches were coming up empty.  Denied! 
​ I went to bed feeling self-satisfied that this engineer really knew a good design when he saw one.  In the morning I sat in our breakfast nook looking out to see contortionist squirrels that had leapt from the fence onto the roof of the feeder and simply hung upside down from the roof to feed unabated.  They never even touched the perch.  I didn’t know if I was madder at the squirrels, the feeder manufacturer, or myself.