This North Fork Gardener Keeps Score: Squirrel 2, Herb Planter 0

I had been writing a while the other day, when I decided to get up and stretch. Sciatica can be the bane of a writer’s existence. There was no sense in taking any chances. And when I wandered to the back door of our second floor digs and looked outside, there the little guy sat. Bright-eyed and bushy tailed, the squirrel was digging a hole in my planter.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. Squirrels are creatures of habit, with an infallible GPS. Growing up in Wisconsin, I experienced this first hand when my dad attempted a relocation program to keep the critters away from our pear tree. For every squirrel he removed from the premises, another seemed to take its place. Finally someone suggested spray-painting the squirrels’ tails neon pink when he released them in that particular park 15 miles away. The little guys practically beat him home! Some pundits suggested a minimum of 50 miles. At that, my dad gave up and let the creatures have the pears.

My North Fork squirrels have been known to chew on the soffit of our house. That’s a lot more serious than pears. They once ate through metal sheeting we had installed up there to keep them out. But this particular chubby fellow seemed content to dig around in my planter.  Downright obsessed, in fact. Even my presence on the other side of the glass didn't seem to bother him one bit.  BUT OF COURSE: ast spring in my blog, I wrote about the hidden signs that animals are sharing the garden with us. Along with deer tracks, I caught a photo of a hole dug in our herb planter where a nut or other goodie had been. And sure enough, that is precisely where the squirrel was digging the other day. At least the fellow leaves the last of the mint and chives alone—something, I suppose.

Any funny or frustrating garden vs. "critter" tales to tell? Folks would love to hear about them.