Scaredy Squirrel Can Go To Hell

Was that me who was just talking about bringing sunshine with you wherever you go, and finding the invincible summer within? Well, that was before I discovered that squirrels have dug up and eaten every crocus bulb that Mark and I lovingly planted in my hosta garden, last fall.

Let me backtrack for a moment: my hosta garden is absolutely gorgeous for three months out of the year. At best. It is on the north side of our garage, but also shaded by the house, so it receives little to no sunshine. It is the coldest spot in the yard and the last place to thaw every spring. It is also the garden I look at the most, because it faces the kitchen window.

I know, I know, it’s not 1950 and I’m not wearing pearls and crinolines, but I do spend a vast amount of time in the kitchen and so that is my view. During the months of the year that it’s not snow covered, or the aforementioned three months that it is blooming, this is what it looks like:


This is the BEST CASE SCENARIO. It’s really ugly.

And that is why I wanted to plant all the crocuses there: I imagined a scenario, before the hostas were up and before I could plant out impatiens, in which the garden would be covered with happy purple and yellow crocuses. It would be so wonderful. I would be so happy to look at it while I washed the dishes (but not in pearls and crinolines).

In the garden beside the back door, which is shielded from squirrels by – I guess – Barkley’s penchant for lying there, in the sun, these little beauties have poked up:


I imagined a whole ocean of them in the hosta garden, an ocean of happy purpleness. Yesterday, I thought I saw sprouts in the hosta garden so I went out to look, and lo, there were sprouts. Sprouts that had been detached from their bulbs and were lying near the holes in which those same bulbs had been living.

Goddamn squirrels.

When I realized that they were all gone, all of them, I felt like pulling a Clark Griswold. I’m going to catch them in a coat, and then smack them with a hammer. I thought regretfully of the time I made Barkley drop a squirrel that was going to meet his maker. I silently willed Barkley to kill ALL THE SQUIRRELS, ALL OF THEM. A few hours later I saw a squirrel in the garden, and I ran out of the house, screaming. I threw my husband’s shoe – which was the first thing I could grab – at the squirrel, then picked it up and threw it again.

I am not the craziest person in my neighbourhood, but yesterday I felt like I could give a few of them a run for their money.

I know, I know, it’s not very zen of me. Also, we should all practice non-attachment, ahimsa, blah blah blah STAY OUT OF MY GARDEN. It took me a while to calm down and then it took me a while after that to not feel sad about my lost crocuses. After all, this is not Zootopia. The squirrels do not have human brain functions and are not some group of mean junior high girls that just want me to freak out while they laugh about it, eating my bulbs all the while. They are squirrels. They eat bulbs. This is what they do.

Hoo boy though, I was blue. I don’t know why but it felt like my entire joie de vivre depended on having those crocuses blooming. I mean, this is not a Jane Austen novel and those crocuses are not my betrothed on which my entire lifetime of happiness depends. And yet it felt like all the colour had literally gone out of my world.

Well, today I’m feeling much better. Maybe I’ll put some interesting-looking planters in there, and change things out seasonally – some outdoors-hardy decorations or some such thing. Maybe I’ll try re-planting and do some research on squirrel deterrent. Is there such a thing as a scarecrow, but for squirrels?


  1. bibliomama2 says

    “Is there such a thing as a scarecrows, but for squirrels?” SAID SOMEONE RIGHT BEFORE SCAREDY SQUIRREL’S ANXIETY BEGAN, you nature-hating monster.

    Yeah, fuck the squirrels. They dig up my flower gardens and ransack my parents’ bird feeders, stripy little thugs.

  2. I feel your pain. We had rabbits in the vegetable garden last summer and all of a sudden, bunnies were no longer cute. Nope, not cute at all. This is what I said I wanted for Mother’s Day and my birthday– rubber snakes. We’ll see how it goes.

  3. YES. See also: voles and chipmunks.

  4. Voles ate all 35 of the tulip bulbs I anticipated last spring, and I am STILL mad.

  5. I feel your frustration, but I have to say, the mental picture of you running after them with your husband’s shoe is comedy gold.

  6. I was sure I had commented. Oh well! I am here now. 😀 I have friends in Ottawa who supported school bulb sales. Planted to their heart’s content and promptly fed a neighbourhood’s worth of squirrels! The darn things didn’t even have the decency to wait until the next season. Isn’t that horrid?! And Ontario squirrels are terrifying. They’ll stare you down, man! *shudders*

Leave a Reply