By John Hadidian, Ph.D.
You can forget mankind's minor achievements like the
building of the pyramids or landing on the moon. The
technological advance that will define whether or not we humans
have truly arrived on this planet will come with the invention
of a squirrel-proof bird feeder. Every winter, countless
backyards serve as the battleground between determined
homeowners and squirrels fighting over bird food. While many
animals—raccoons, deer, even bears—may raid the bird feeders we
lovingly stock to help our feathered friends, the real
ringleader is none other than the incorrigible gray squirrel.
Through the extremes of winter months, no mammal is as
persistent and pervasive at achieving his goal as the intrepid
squirrel, ready to defy every design, every device, and every
technology intended to keep him from consuming the lion's share
of the sunflowers, peanuts, and corn. And why not? Squirrels
like most, if not all, of the foods intended for birds; they
are dexterous and agile enough to climb onto virtually every
surface that birds can reach; and they thrive in the typical
urban-suburban habitat that humans create when they make their
own nests.
Now it should be noted that some people, this writer
included, have absolutely nothing against squirrels and will
employ only passive countermeasures, if anything at all, to
deter them from raiding bird feeders. Where possible, a little
for them and more for the birds seems to be a good compromise.
The real problems begin when that arrangement isn't
satisfactory, and the squirrels take their share and then some.
Science has yet to determine exactly how much these plucky
rodents can really eat and what population densities they can
sustain in the average neighborhood, but for those of us who
have incidentally fed them while trying to provide for a
chickadee or two, it can be an extremely frustrating (and
expensive) experience. So what should we do?
Building a Better Bird Feeder
First, as in most instances where human-wildlife conflicts
occur, the principle of exclusion should come to mind. If we
can simply prevent squirrels from gaining access to our
feeders, the battle should surely be won. This entails
employing one of two basic principles: Place the feeder where
squirrels cannot gain access to it, or use a feeder that is
designed to deny access no matter where it is in the yard.
If you've ever wondered why some feeding devices are topped
with large plastic domes, the answer is to exclude squirrels.
The idea is simple: The squirrel tries to climb onto the feeder
from the suspension line or pole and encounters the baffle,
which prevents access. The animal is often dumped
unceremoniously onto the ground along with quite a bit of seed,
providing a small meal of sorts with nearly every attempt. I
have one feeder of this sort, and it has worked perfectly for
some years, though I was forced to armor the plastic hook by
which it is suspended after a frustrated nibbler damaged it. As
unbelievable as it may seem, I have been told that some
squirrels figure out the spillage angle so completely that they
simply launch themselves at the dome, bounce off, and harvest
the spillage on the ground. More sophisticated, complex, and,
hence, expensive feeders are designed to prevent access by
using a mechanical principle. These devices employ
counterbalanced baffles that close over the access ports when
any animal as heavy as a squirrel comes to feed. New designs
that utilize the exclusion principle are appearing all the
time, and some recent models feature an external cage that
excludes squirrels and some larger birds, while allowing access
for the smaller ones.
One ingenious solution involves a homemade system in which a
feeder is suspended from a horizontal wire and is equipped with
baffles that prevent squirrels from scampering across like they
do when moving on a telephone wire. The simplest design
involves the use of empty soda pop bottles of one liter or
more, through which the line is strung. Rotating freely along
the line, these bottles dump any squirrel rash enough to try to
challenge them. By suspending three or four on each side of the
feeder, you can prevent all but the most athletic squirrel from
acquiring a meal.
A Better Meal
The second basic approach to solving the squirrel-bird
feeder equation is to use foods that squirrels might simply
consider unworthy of such Herculean efforts. In my yard, a lot
of safflower seed is provided, to the great satisfaction of
cardinals, chickadees, titmice, and other species that winter
in the area but to less favorable reviews from the local
squirrel population. Niger thistle is a food of choice for the
local goldfinches and others of their kind, while the squirrels
disdain it completely. Suet cakes left out for the nuthatches
and woodpeckers are rarely molested by my squirrels, although
what the crows do to these is another matter. On the large
platform that is especially intended for mourning doves and
house finches, a mixture of white millet seed and others is
served, which seems to raise little interest from the squirrels
in the neighborhood.
Lest you think that this brief report covers all of the
available strategies, devices, plans, schemes, and stratagems
employed to defeat the advances of armies of squirrels that
assemble in our neighborhoods each winter, think again. There
are books written on the subject. Your local bird specialty
store will abound in devices not mentioned here, as well as in
neighborly advice about what's being tried locally. It's also
likely to stock an ample variety of specialty feeders for the
squirrels themselves, since people are increasingly opting for
the "If you can't lick 'em, join 'em" strategy. Those who give
in to the impulse to kick back and enjoy the squirrels along
with the rest of the wild neighbors may indeed find the
enjoyment to be every bit as great as that provided by our
feathered friends.
John Hadidian is director of the
HSUS Urban Wildlife Program
