Homo Sapiens takes on SciuridaeOK - I Googled it. Squirrels belong to a species known as Sciuridae. I am the one in the Homo Sapiens group (and so are you) - specifically that subgroup who now find themselves north of the age equator.
My only saving grace is that I will probably outlive the little bastards. Also today I broke down and bought the cheapest squirrel proof feeder I could find. Two hours later I was watching a black squirrel stuffing himself while clinging to it.
This wouldn't be so humbling if I didn't get the feeling that a virtual Madison Square Gardens (my yard) is sitting in their seats laughing at me. In their midst are: birds; racoons; skunks; rabbits; chipmunks; possums; ground hogs; and worst of all - other squirrels. I think I posted about this once before but in my subgroup - we sometimes don't remember such details (but search for "Squirrel Proof Bird Feeder, January 1, 2021). A squirrel's tail is a vital part of its agility and balance but I believe my residents are constantly hiking theirs to moon me.
I also enjoy writing verse so here is one depicting the entire saga. I call it:
Spartacus vs. Chatterbox Maximus
There are famous battles, recorded throughout time,
I offer one to head the list, in this my humble rhyme.
Wellington/Napoleon, Spiderman and Joker,
Churchill vs. Hitler, and even world class poker.
We call them heroes and villains, depending on one's view.
This will go down in history as Brewster's Waterloo.
My yard is full of critters that walk and hop and fly.
The trees have grown for decades and reach unto the sky.
They form a Colisseum - my tall trees in the round,
Offer ring side viewing, and quadraphonic sound.
They come to see the fighting, with wife and kids in toe.
I host daily bouts you see as most of them all know.
Way up high in every one you'll find a squirrel's nest.
Compared to those for miles around mine are Nature's best.
They come and stay for they all know this hotel is renowned.
The menu that I offer is the best for miles around.
It is intended for my birds as in the trees they shelter,
And when the squirrels do battle - it sounds like Helter-skelter.
That is not the main event, in fact it's amateur.
They want to see them battle me - a Super Bowl for sure.
The seats are always taken, standing room maxed out,
And you should hear the ruckus when they begin to shout.
Sometimes they will throw things and call out for my head,
The clever little rodents flash their butts at me instead.
And with my entrance to the ring a grand applause is heard,
With precious nuts upon the line but not one grateful bird.
The Artful Dodger makes his move and jumps towards the cage.
And with one tiny toe hangs on - it fills me full of rage.
I take two paces forward, and clap my hands to scare.
Instead he keeps on eating just as though I was not there.
Another jumps into the ring - a tag team I now face.
The partner then jumps straight at me and I flee in disgrace.
And then I hit upon a thought that was not in my plans.
I'll go inside and pop some corn and sell it to the fans.
Then they would help finance, the little critter's glut,
The least that they could do as they all watch him whip my butt.
Some day I know I will prevail and triumph o'er their best.
And I can brag to all the world "Squirrel Buster" on my chest!