Squirrel Insanity and Goose Goofiness

Hi, folks. Today I’d like to focus your attention on the shenanigans of two creatures that, while very different in almost every respect, share the propensity of doing things that amuse and/or exasperate human observers.

I present for your consideration the Eastern fox squirrel (Sciurus niger) and the Canada goose (Branta canadensis). Recent encounters with these two species resulted in expletives in one instance, and hilarity in the other. I’ve think you’ll quickly understand the source of each reaction.

I’m certain that you’ve heard the following quote many times:

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

This phrase is often attributed to Albert Einstein, but in fact it first appeared in print in a 1983 book by Rita Mae Brown entitled Sudden Death…although repetition and insanity or mental illness have been linked by psychologists for more than a century, and the link has been amplified and reinforced by the fact that millions of people keep watching the Dallas Cowboys attempt to play football.

You’re no doubt wondering by now, Where is he going with this? And why am I not watching reruns of Jeopardy instead of spending my precious time here? Those are fair questions, and while I can’t answer the second one, I offer the following in response to the first one.

Since moving to the Texas Hill Country, my affinity for pecan trees has gradually transmogrified from admiration to something that approximates hatred. I realize that is unforgivable heresy, especially coming from a tree-deprived West Texan, but stay with me.

We have seven pecan trees on or bordering our half-acre property; most of them are 40-to-50 feet tall. They provide excellent shade in the summer, and allow warming sunshine in the winter…and that’s the extent of their positive attributes. What they do 24/7/365 is drop detritus on our deck, sidewalks, and driveways. Depending on the season, those droppings consist of leaves, sap (or aphid excretions), dead branches and twigs, various species of caterpillars, and, of course, pecans. It’s that last thing that I want to focus on now.

Here’s the deal: we have never gotten a harvest of pecans from any of the trees. Thanks to the consistently large population of tree rats — aka squirrels — the trees are stripped of nuts before they mature.

Now, I’m not complaining about the lack of mature pecans, because the trees bear what we call “natives” — they’re small and very difficult to shell…much different than the papershell varieties that are sold commercially. They do have a good flavor, but it’s not worth the effort to extract. What chaps me is the fact that the squirrels get to them before they mature and…well…here’s a picture of what they do:

If you’re not familiar with the life cycle of a pecan, this is what an immature pecan looks like, except that these have been gnawed on, and discarded, by squirrels.

Every day during this time of the summer, we find literally scores, if not hundreds of half-eaten pecans on our deck and patio. It’s a daily struggle to keep those surfaces semi-clean with the use of a broom, leaf-blower, or pressure washer. The latter is the only really effective tool, because these green pecan pieces are sticky and they adhere to the surfaces and stain them.

Here’s why I think the “insanity quote” is relevant. By all appearances, squirrels don’t actually enjoy eating green pecans; otherwise, they’d finish them off. Instead, they take a bite or two, grimace, and spit out the rest of the nut. Wouldn’t you think they’d learn?

To add insult to injury, I don’t believe that the tree over this particular part of the patio is even producing that many pecans, meaning that the squirrels are bringing them from somewhere else to what is apparently a more enjoyable arboreal eating establishment.

I’m not a hunter, and I’ve never shot a squirrel, but I’m this close to sitting on the deck with a pellet gun and attempting to reduce the population of picky eaters in our trees. There are only two things stopping me: mosquitoes, and the fact that I’m a terrible shot with a pellet gun.

Let’s move on to a more interesting and less annoying topic, shall we?

Debbie and I were recently riding our tandem bicycle past a field and our attention was captured by the sight of a gaggle of Canadian geese spaced out (physically…not in the mental sense of the term, although with geese, one can never be too sure) in the tall grass. We were moving too fast to stop for a photo but the road we were on made a big loop and I suggested going back to see if the birds were still in place. Sure enough, they were, and we cautiously moved close enough to get a few photos. The header image at the top of this post is representative of the scene, and here’s a look at the bigger picture:

Lake LBJ is only about a mile away, as the crow goose flies, so it’s a mystery to me as to why they decided this was a good spot for a rest. But we were happy to be able to see and record something that we’d never before encountered.

Also, the scene brought to mind a couple of other tableaus that we’ve experienced in the past, and perhaps you’ve already had a similar mental image. Here’s what I immediately thought of:

The top two are, of course, familiar: our locally-spotted geese, and a group of meerkats on the lookout (we’ve seen this behavior at the San Diego Zoo). The bottom scene is likely less familiar unless you’re a scuba diver. These are garden eels (subfamily Heterocongrinae), and they are extremely cool, albeit shy, creatures. We’ve encountered them at various times in the past, primarily diving off the coast of Bonaire. They inhabit relatively shallow sandy ocean bottoms, and as you approach them they slowly retreat into the sand, only to emerge — equally slowly — after you depart.

All of these behaviors, from geese to eels, underscore the fascinating variety of the natural world, and if we pay close attention, we get the privilege of observing them, and using our imaginations to try to understand the motivations of the animals. As my friend Sam and I often remind each other, all we have to do is look.

Closing Shot: The struggle is real