The Small. The Furry. The Enemy.

It's no secret that I love spring.  I love everything from the color of the budding trees, to the warmer weather which allows me to frolic without freezing my booty off, to the animals emerging from a long winter hibernation.  But there is one exception.  The one thing I do not like at all under any circumstances is the squirrel population plaguing my neighborhood. 

Looks cute, doesn't he? Don't let that fool you.

I didn't always harbor hate in my heart for squirrels.  I used to think they were cute and watched them prance across the lawns and from tree to tree.  I defended them against a girl down the hall from me in college who called them "rats with fluffy tails" and promised to kick any which crossed her path.   I even fed them when I was younger, leaving out nuts and hoping that they might come close enough for me to get a brief touch of that tail.  That was before I have been forced to wage all-out war.

Moving to the DC area has changed my view of squirrels.  At first I was excited due to the prevalence of the elusive black squirrel.  They're not exactly uncommon here, as they are in most other parts of the U.S.  For those who aren't familiar with the story, 18 black squirrels were introduced to our area by the Smithsonian Zoo, first in 1902 and again in 1906.  They were a rare find brought down from Ontario, where they are plentiful.  Let's just say those things appear to be more prolific than rabbits, because they're everywhere now.  About 25% of the squirrels in our area are black, with populations surging to around 50% in some neighborhoods.  Being around these animals that many people can't see firsthand seemed fantastic at the time.

But then I had my first encounter with the evil nature of these animals.  While walking with a friend who was visiting from out of town, a squirrel was perched on a fence we were passing.  Instead of running away like I had always seen them do, this one decided to turn toward us, reared up on its hind legs, and started chattering at us.  It wasn't too intimidating until it charged toward us, I freaked out, and squealed like a frightened little girl while covering my head with my arms.  My friend laughed, but I swear to you that thing was going to attack.  I had another similar encounter in the following weeks, but my friend seems skeptical and still says the potential attacks were my imagination.

Around the same time, reports of attacks by the innocent looking furballs were up in our area.  A mother told the Washington Post how she had to fend off a black squirrel that randomly tried attacking her 2-year-old daughter.  A man visiting for the cherry blossom festival talked about how some squirrels had charged his young children and he was worried they would be bitten.  And now, this video, of a squirrel leaping on a person who was making a video of it on the National Mall. 

Researchers insist that despite reports in the DC area, black squirrels are no more aggressive than the gray squirrels.  They claim the animals are exactly the same, just a different color.  I stand by my own unofficial research stating a higher rate of aberant behavior by the black squirrels than gray squirrels... although I think the gray ones have fully caught on to the antics of the black squirrels and have decided to join in the mischief.

Note the pit in the left of my pot where spinach previously grew.

My main problem with these beasts is how they leap onto my balcony from the tree right next to it, and dig up my plants.  Gardening is one of my many simple pleasures in the spring and summer, but the squirrels seem intent on ruining that.  They consistently dig up my planters for no reason whatsover, leaving the plants/seeds/bulbs next to my pots.   I would be more than willing to share some of the fruits of my labor, but these poor plants can't even make it to harvest because of those grubby little squirrel paws.     

Two years ago, I staged full attacks when the brazen beasts would leap onto my balcony and hover over my plants, ready to mindlessly dig.  Chris suggested having a squirt gun to spray them when they'd invade.  Not having a squirt gun, I improvised by keeping a jug of water near the door to the balcony, and flung the water at any furry fiend who dared to cross me.  Although the average person could not hear it, I am certain I could detect cheers from the vegetable plants.  My aunt also gave me some animal repellant made out of black pepper that gives offenders an unpleasantly spicy surprise, but doesn't actually harm them.  (Please know as much as I loathe the squirrels, I could never kill them.)

Last year they seemed to calm down a bit, and I declared that we had finally reached a truce.  For the most part, the squirrels' aggressiveness waned, and they left my veggies alone.   Even random encounters on the street were more pleasant, because for some reason the squirrels seemed to regain their skittish nature.  They no longer chattered and charged at me, and they left my balcony garden alone.  It gave me hope that we had turned a corner and the truce would continue for many springs to come.

Lets just say those jerks hustled me.  This year, they're back and badder than ever.  They've eaten my flower bulbs, upended planters with herbs (twice), uprooted spinach and thrown around zucchini seeds.  They're also eyeing me up on the street, ready to pounce.  You may find this to be a ridiculous claim, but the aggressive nature was corroborated this morning by my dad, who is visiting for the week.  He said he went to the door of the balcony to check the weather, and two big squirrels were sitting on two of my pots and staring at him.  When he opened the door, the smaller one leapt into the tree.  The fat one stayed there until my dad walked onto the balcony, then lazily leapt into the tree as well.  My dad swears those squirrels sat on the branch, eerily watching him and waiting for him to move so they could return to the planters... or maybe not.  Maybe they were waiting for him to appear weak so they could fly across the small gap and jump on him.  Either way, I take this incident as proof that my squirrel hate is founded.

I'm not quite sure what else I can do to ward off the squirrels.  I'm certainly not going to stop planting, because then they would win and I just can't have that.  I also refuse to walk down the street in fear of being pounced upon, so I stare down any squirrel who seems to think it can intimidate me.  I tried to be friendly because there is plenty of space for all of us to live together in this neighborhood.  However, the fuzzy foes broke our truce and have created a hostile work/living environment.  It might finally be time to invest in a Super Soaker.  Until that point, I assure you I will have that jug of water waiting next to the balcony door, quietly challenging the squirrels to rile me just one more time.