Thread by @HoarseWisperer

In my backyard, the world is blissfully still save for the sounds of the birds and me coughing up phlegm balls the size of sparrows.

Blue jays are a bit dickish.

Cardinals are nice. I’d like to be friends with cardinals.

Doves would be good neighbors. They’d never use their leaf blowers early on weekends.

You can just tell these things.

And don’t get me started on squirrels.

Squirrels are bushy tailed rats.

Were it not frowned upon, I’d surround my feeders with spring-loaded catapults that threw ground-approaching squirrels into the neighbor’s yard.

Get your own damn seed.

Now I’m going to put up another suet feeder on a stand-alone pole and make it my day’s work to fashion an array of squirrel-defeating battlements.

Any ideas?

I’m leaning towards a moat of burning oil. I’m not sure if city code allows for this sort of thing.

I call this The Four-Liter Defeater.

Now, we wait.

I may lose this battle but I will not lose this war.

I’ve loaded the suet cage with the good stuff.

Oh, you want this squirrels. You know you do.

Let’s see what you’ve got.

Now, I sit in patient vigil with a prime vantage point right up bird feeder row.

We shall soon know who has won this round.

Man or squirrel.

The squirrels are too cowardly to take a run at my suet while I’m standing guard.

Now all I can think about is the leftover lasagna I want to go inside and heat up.

But that’s what they WANT me to do.

Please have a small drone airdrop provisions.

I retreated behind cover to both achieve more effective camouflage and eat some lasagna.

As of 11:57 EDT, nary a squirrel has dared challenge The Four-Liter Defeater.

I have nowhere to be. Show yourselves, cowards.

1:50 pm EDT

There have been no confirmed sightings of the Terrible Squirrel.

I have now turned on football. I’m not really watching it. I just want the hawk-eyed squirrels to THINK I’m watching it.

Should this latest subterfuge fail, I will commence making a Ghillie suit.

I ran out for a quick beer.

I did so in the knowledge that my consumption of four liters of orange soda was not in vain.

The Four Liter Defeater is protecting my homestead from the Terrible Squirrel.

What could go wrong.

As expected, I returned to home, suet home.

The Four Liter Defeater appears to have flummoxed the Terrible Squirrel.

Nonetheless, I’m hard at work on a Plan B involving an elaborate pully system and a small amount of gunpowder should this system fail.

Things have taken a dark turn.

While I should be enjoying a restful evening on the lanai of the Hoarse estate, I’ve only now realized the new suet cage may be within reach of the neighborhood fox.

I bear no grudge toward said fox.

Yet.

This will now consume me until I wake.

Note: I have neither a lanai nor an estate.

I have risen with the dawn to check my new feeder.

Early reports from the front are in:

It has survived the night alone against the Terrible Squirrel and Dubious Fox.

Four Liter Defeater: 1
Four Legged Bandits: 0

And right on cue, here comes that loud-ass bluejay.

I’m staring right at this cacophonous bigmouth with a look of disapproval and judgment.

Oh, he got the message. He is scorned in this yard.

And now my backyard is all astir with welcome visitors.

My new wooden feeder is doing a booming business.

First house finches of the year. First chickadees. I like chickadees. They’re agile little air swimmers.

I have an update... a glorious update.

There it is.

The Four Liter Defeater has vanquished The Terrible Squirrel.

This is the glorious scene of their surrender.