The Squirrel Wars

I grew up in Los Angeles, and in all my time there I didn’t see much wildlife. Up here in Northern California, critters are everywhere—turkeys, ducks, and geese waddling down the road, the occasional deer in the front yard, skunks and raccoons causing a ruckus.

Then there are the squirrels.

Squirrels that climb my oak tree. Squirrels that use my back fence as a superhighway. Squirrels who bury acorns that sprout a million little oak trees in the spring.

And squirrels that strip my pluot tree of every last fruit. Grrr!

Full disclosure, they only stole the fruit from one pluot tree. What broke my heart was that it was the FIRST TIME that tree produced more than one or two fruits. I had lovingly wrapped each of those pluots in tiny stockings (like the ones you use to try on shoes) to protect them from the birds.

That didn’t slow down the squirrel at all. The furry invader ripped the pluots off the tree and left me tiny stockings and pluot pits all over the yard. It only spared one lonely pluot. Apparently the branch was too skinny to support even a squirrel.

I ate the pluot. It was delicious. Which only made me sadder for the others.

And that squirrel wasn’t finished. It discovered my tomato plants on the other side of the yard. And it stole not one, not two, but three of the four tomatoes on my Early Girl bush. They weren’t even ripe! Who eats an unripe tomato? At least before dipping it in breadcrumbs and frying it?

An uncouth squirrel, I guess. I even caught him in the act, up in my oak tree, chowing down on the tomato.

It’s too late for this year, but what do you do to keep squirrels from making a buffet of your garden? I’d love to hear from you, even if it’s just to share your favorite recipe for fried green tomatoes. Drop me a line with your ideas. Next year, we’ll show those squirrels who’s boss.