Persistent Percy is living up to his name. I've got to give the little guy credit, he doesn't give up. I doubt there are many performing squirrels as they are not easy to train, and patience is not a squirrel's virtue. He shows up at one grain pile and then another. He endures a super soaking with warm milk and comes back for more. I'll admit to a sneaking admiration for his persistence.
Either Pom-Pom's tail has regrown that ring of missing fur or he's gone to his great reward in Squirrel Heaven, as I haven't seen (or identified) him in some time. They come and they go.
When Pete was here, one of the squirrels who live in and under the juniper bushes in front of the house started that oh-so-very irritating constant chirp. I told Pete I often felt like going to the door and yelling, "Shut up! Shut up-shut-up-shut up!" He laughed. It wasn't much after that when I heard Pete yelling, "Shut up!" It really does get on one's nerves. Google tells me that a group of squirrels is called a dray or scurry, but that squirrels are solitary animals and don't colonize. Bet me! That might apply to tree squirrels, but there are towns and cities, metropolises even, of ground squirrels here. I take some satisfaction in revenge, When the opening to one of the underground burrows gets big enough that one could lose a small dog in, I dump a big bag of used cat litter down it. I know, gross, but it at least causes the offenders to move on and tunnel elsewhere.
Miss Muffet shows up regularly for breakfast, grabbing a fast bite and going to sit in her corner. More youngsters are coming out, tiny little kids, not sure of the routine. Older mice are quick to chastise if the babies try to take cuts in line. It seems to be a fairly regimented society with acceptable rules of behavior.
The large "committee" (that's what a group of vultures is called when on the ground, and a "kettle" when in flight) of the big, beautiful birds has not come around for some time now. I'm assuming they're still down in the Owens Valley. It was a surprise yesterday to see one lone bird sunning on a post by the goat pen. Rarely have I seen one bird by itself.
Celeste has finally forgiven me my sins and is a constant feature on my lap again. Ralph has taken his cue from her and squeezes in regularly now. Bessie has found her own way of dealing with the lack of space. When I'm out of the chair, she jumps up (sometimes she has to take a running start) and will only grudgingly move over a tiny bit to make room for me. I can't swear to it, but I think she gives a silent horse laugh to the cats as I perch on the edge with no lap left.
And so it goes with the residents of Farview Farm.