Banana and Cheese: A Guide to Feeding Squirrels

Banana and I have spent a lot of time observing squirrels; sometimes in our backyard, and sometimes in our front yard.

Therefore, we feel very qualified to give you our list of things to feed, and not to feed, our furry four-footed friends.

First, our list of things NOT to feed to the squirrels:

1) Steak. Squirrels will eat meat; we’ve heard that they will even eat hamburgers if they live near college students. But squirrels will not eat steak because they rarely have steak sauce in their nests.

2) Ice cream.Squirrels are very slow eaters, and they hate it when ice cream melts all over their fur. Also, unless they know you very well, they will not come down from the tree to take the frosty treat before the ice cream has softened into a puddle.

3) Cardboard. Banana pushed a piece of cardboard under a tree just last week, thinking she might fool a squirrel into coming down for “pizza”, but she soon found out squirrels are very, very clever.

4) Goldfish. We’ve talked to some of our cat friends, and nobody has ever seen a squirrel dip a paw into a pond. Likewise, no squirrel has been silly enough to fall into a pond (unlike some friends we know…Twitch!).

5) Cat food. That’s just wrong! Very, very wrong, and they will not like it. Trust us when we tell you to feed cat food only to cats. Banana suggests that you feed cat food to cats quite often.

Now, our list of things Banana and I think people ought to feed to squirrels (especially if we can watch):

1) Spaghetti. Although we have never witnessed it, trust us when we tell you that squirrels love spaghetti. But, before serving spaghetti to squirrels, please invite Banana and I to your house. We want to laugh at…I mean…watch them as they try to suck those noodles into their mouths. We think it would be very funny…I mean…nutritious to serve spaghetti to squirrels.

2) Meatballs. See spaghetti (above). If you served spaghetti and meatballs at the same time, that would be hilarious…I mean…a complete meal. It makes Banana and I want to break into song (please join us):

“On top of spaghetti,

All covered with cheese,

I lost my poor meatball,

When somebody sneezed.

It rolled off the table,

And on to the floor,

And then my poor meatball,

Rolled out of the door.

It rolled in the garden,

And under a bush,

And then my poor meatball,

Was nothing but mush.

The mush was as tasty

As tasty could be,

And then the next summer,

It grew into a tree.

The tree was all covered,

All covered with moss,

And on it grew meatballs,

And tomato sauce.

So if you eat spaghetti,

All covered with cheese,

Hold on to your meatball,

Whenever you sneeze.”

3) Corn. Squirrels really do like corn. Banana and I like it when Gale hangs the corn on our corn cob feeder; the squirrels spin around and around as they try to get the kernels off the cob. Very entertaining, and nutritious too.

4) Sunflower seeds. Squirrels like sunflower seeds…a lot. I think they like them mostly because cats do not like sunflower seeds.

5) Bagels. Another food that is amusing for cats, tasty for squirrels. We especially like it when the squirrels put their paw through the middle, and twirl the bagel as they eat it.

For more information on squirrels, check out this website:

http://www.squirrels.org/

And, if you would like to sing along with the song, “On Top of Spaghetti”, here’s a great YouTube video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i0jLgf8rK4c

It’s Our Year

It was July 4, 2010…..

“Hey, Banana,” shouted Cheese, as he peered at the computer screen. “You’ve got to see this!”
Banana sleepily strolled into the room, stretching her hind legs as she moved toward him. She also had to sidestep Tabbouleh, who pounced on her paw. “This had better be good. I was dreaming I was climbing a mountain of kibble.”

“It says, right here on Gale’s computer, that it’s our year! It has been since February, and nobody told us,” pouted Cheese.

Banana, suddenly very interested, jumped up into the chair next to the computer desk.

Tabbouleh, who had been chasing after her, skidded across the floor, and smacked up against the pink leg of the dinosaur piñata. “What are you talking about? Our year? I knew every day was our day—Gale says that all the time. But our year? I don’t understand.”

Cheese pointed to the computer screen. “It’s the Year of the Tiger, according to the Chinese lunar calendar. And it has been since February 14^th, but nobody bothered to inform us of such an important event. “ Cheese suddenly looked like he was dreaming. “We should be honored with a parade, or a party, or maybe a fountain should be named after us.”

“Yeah!” exclaimed Banana, falling into the same dreamy state. “Or we could have a huge banquet, with lots of food and dancing squirrels! We should make sure our people have this party before Tabbouleh leaves; that would mean presents, because everyone brings presents for kittens.”

“No, wait!” Cheese suddenly looked panicked. “NO parties or parades; those get too noisy. And too many people would want to come. Maybe just a quiet night in the back yard?’

“That’s purr-fect, “ agreed Banana. “As long as there are plenty of snacks. How about tonight?”

The cats and their people spent a nice evening out on the patio; as the sun set, Cheese was delighted to see the fireflies begin their light show. But imagine the shock the cats felt when loud booms, followed by flashes of colorful lights, filled the sky.

Banana and Cheese were startled, but the noise woke Tabbouleh from a kitten nap he was taking next to his new best friend the pink dinosaur! As their people clapped and cheered, Banana leaned over to Cheese, and whispered, "They knew it was our year all along. I can’t wait to see what else we do to celebrate.

I’ll bet next we’ll be getting our very own chickens!”

To learn more about the Chinese Lunar Calendar (are you a boar? A monkey?)

To learn about the Year of the Tiger, and how you can help save these great cats

To learn more about fireworks

"And the Next Day”…Tabbouleh Part 2

At 6:03 a.m. on Monday morning, Banana left her usual post outside the bedroom door to find Cheese.

“Cheese! It’s still here!” Banana shouted.

Cheese, who was lying on the dining room table, looked scornfully at Banana. “Yes, I already know that. I can smell it, can’t I?” He turned his attention toward the back yard, where he could see a squirrel packing pieces of corn into its cheek.

“Well,” persisted Banana, “what are we going to do about it?

That KITTEN might try to eat our food, or sleep in our favorite spots, or play with our toys! Ewww…kitten drool…on..my..string!!!” Banana looked panicked and disgusted at the thought.

Their conversation was interrupted by Karen, who breezed by them on her way to the kitchen. Banana followed her, anticipation making her tail stick straight up. Karen stood at the counter, mixed something in a small container, poured whatever it was into a tiny bottle, and then breezed right by Banana again.

“Well!” exclaimed Banana. “She forgot to feed me…oh, and you, …of course! How could she forget to feed me? She knows that’s her first important job of the day!”

Disgusted, she flopped down in front of the patio door. “She didn’t even pat my head or scratch me in that puuuurrfect spot on my back!” If Cheese didn’t know Banana as well as he did, he would have said she sounded like she was going to cry.

Long minutes passed; Cheese watched as another squirrel shoved sunflower seeds into its mouth. Banana was tossing and turning on the floor; she was interested in nothing, and her loud sighs were really beginning to get on Cheese’s nerves. Finally Karen reappeared, carrying an armful of nasty-smelling towels to the washing machine. “Ewww…,” cried Cheese, burying his nose in his paws, “….that kitten must not know proper litter box usage! I hope it doesn’t touch me!” He shivered at the very idea of coming in contact with such an untidy creature.

Both Banana and Cheese were now very, very miserable, and it was all that tiny kitten’s fault!

Karen was back in the kitchen now, and Banana’s ears twitched at the sound of food hitting the bottom of dish. Banana skidded around the corner and ran right into Karen’s leg.

“Oh, Banana! I bet you thought I forgot you,” purred Karen, as she reached down to pat Banana’s head. “Tabbouleh is taking up a lot of our time at the moment, isn’t he?” Her hand moved down to stroke Banana’s back. Banana responded with a sharp reply that ended with a purr of her own.

Cheese came in to sniff the food bowls, and allowed Karen to scratch his head. Just then, Gale entered the kitchen, carrying Tabbouleh, who was wrapped up in a hand towel (and looked a lot like a burrito). She knelt down so Banana and Cheese could get a good look and a bit of a sniff at Tabbouleh. Cheese hurried away in disgust at the smell, but he was also feeling a twinge of sympathy for this kitten that was abandoned by its mother.

He knew exactly how it felt, because he had been left by his mother at that age too. Banana just stared in amazement; how could that loud kitten be so small?!

Later that day, as the people and the cats were lounging in the living room, Gale cleared her throat.

“The next few weeks are going to be hard,” she began. “Karen and I have decided we are going to be a foster family for Tabbouleh. That means we are going to take care of him until he’s old enough and strong enough to live with people of his own.

Banana and Cheese, we’re going to need your help. He’s going to need to learn some stuff from big cats—how to play, how to eat, and how to clean himself. Do you think you can teach him some of those things?”

Banana and Cheese thought about this. Banana was still worried about having kitten slobber all over her toys, and

Cheese was nervous about whether Tabbouleh could really learn the fine points of grooming. Then they each thought about the moment, earlier in the day, when they saw Tabbouleh all wrapped up and looking so little and helpless.

Cheese knew the kitten really needed him; he remembered that, before he came to this family, he lived with a foster family of cats and their people too. Those cats taught him a lot of things! Banana decided if Cheese was going to help, maybe she could too. She would push her very special fuzzy catnip balls under the big black chair; they would be safe from Tabbouleh there, and maybe he wouldn’t lick the strings as much as she thought. Besides, she was THE expert when it came to eating, and there was a lot she could tell Tabbouleh—she only hoped he would be there long enough!

Over the next few days, Gale and Karen, Banana and Cheese, and Peter (who was on summer vacation from school) realized they had made the right decision. Tabbouleh was a lot of fun, and was very cute. He learned things very quickly, and he didn’t chew on too many of Banana’s toys. Tabbouleh grew and grew…and…best of all (according to Cheese) wasn’t nearly so stinky.

Introducing Tabbouleh

The “weekend”—something humans have but cats don’t—was winding down. Cheese was lazing in the front window; dozing off, but keeping one eye slightly opened in case those fascinating finches came back to the feeder.

Banana was in the basement with Karen, ready to advise Karen on her ironing technique if asked. Suddenly, there was a lot of noise coming from downstairs; Cheese made ready to dash to a place of safety, but realized it was just family noise. Family noise was OK, but add in one unfamiliar sound, and Cheese was going under—under the bed, that is. He saw Gale dash by, heard a door slam, then turned his attention back to the feeder.

A few minutes later, as Cheese watched a small bird pull a thistle seed out of a hole in the feeder, Banana came running into the room. She slid to a stop on the carpet and breathlessly shouted, “Cheese!!! Come quick!! There’s something…something….well, something….OH!!! Just come!”

The two cats rushed to the kitchen, where they saw Gale hand Karen something tiny and brown and wiggly. The something in Karen’s hands was crying, and the cats’ ears pricked up at the sound. It was a cry they both recognized, because they had cried that cry before—this KITTEN was scared and hungry and wanted its’ mom RIGHT NOW!!! The women talked a minute, then hurried outside with the kitten; Banana and Cheese rushed to the door too, straining to see if the mother cat would appear and reclaim its baby. Surely it would hear the kittens’ cries—it was pretty loud!

“Cheese, do you think it’s one of Twitch’s kittens?” whispered Banana.

“Hmmm….I’m not sure….I thought her babies were older. Maybe?” Cheese didn’t like this feeling; he was scared for the kitten, who seemed so sad, and his insides were flopping because he didn’t know what he was supposed to do: was he supposed to hide? Go out and find the mother himself? Take charge and carry the kitten to its mother?

Before he could think of an answer, Gale and Karen were back, with the kitten. Banana and Cheese followed them into the kitchen again, where they watched Gale pull open drawers and open a big book. She picked up the phone, and dialed. After a few minutes of conversation and a lot of “I don’t know” responses from Gale, she hung up the phone. The cats watched Karen grab her keys, and then the women and the still-crying kitten were gone.

Time passed. Cat time is not the same as human time; for instance, time went slowly for Banana every morning when she waited for Karen to get up and feed her, but seemed to speed up when a squirrel moved from tree to ground to tree, but tonight it seemed like a very, very long time before Banana and Cheese heard the garage door opening again. Doors slammed, bags were dropped on the kitchen counter, and then, for a few moments, it was quiet again. That’s when the cats heard the kitten crying….still. But, maybe it seemed a little less afraid, or maybe it was getting sleepy—it’s so hard to tell with kittens that little. More drawers were opened and shut, utensils clanged, and there was a great business throughout the house. Cheese decided this was no place for him, so he found a nice quiet corner in Peter’s room. Banana watched the activity for a while, but was at a loss for what direction to give, so sat by the window with her ears pricked, listening…just in case.

Before long, it was close to midnight (at least that’s what Gale said), and the kitten was asleep in a box with a towel-covered heating pad. Karen and Gale were slumped in chairs in the living room, surrounded by an array of things that smelled like kitten—bottles, syringes, paper towels, toilet paper, cotton balls, and the kitchen looked like a cook-who-isn’t-quite-a-good-cook had been mixing things in bowls and pans with whisks and spoons.

As Banana and Cheese surveyed the chaos, they could tell something had definitely changed in the house. It wasn’t just the kitten smell; it was having the kitten there. This little creature needed this family, all of them—for food, warmth, protection. It needed kindness and gentleness. It needed love. Banana and Cheese weren’t quite sure what all of this meant for them, but they were sure of one thing—having Tabbouleh in the house meant a new set of adventures were just beginning.

BST(Banana Sleep Time)

Have you ever tried to get the attention of someone (“Mom! Mom, Mom, Mom! MOM!” or “Boss, boss boss boss boss!”) and then completely forget, once you have their attention, why you wanted it in the first place?

Banana does this at least eight times a day; when you respond, “What, Banana, what,” she pauses, as if trying to remember what it was that was so important. And then she thinks of something new to tell you.

At 6 a.m. (or BWT—Banana Wakeup Time) EVERY morning, Banana begins to talk . She stands, or sits, outside the bedroom door and whines (I would say, “Like a dog”, but I don’t want to offend her). Translated into human language, I think she’s saying, “Hey. Hey. Heyyyyyyy…” If she hears even the slightest creak, she keeps it up. Otherwise, she wanders off to doze on Peters’-but-really-the-cats’-bed. It’s almost as if the humans push her Snooze Button, because 30 minutes later, she’s back at the door.

There is much joy, rubbing of legs, and talking if Karen gets up first. If Gale comes out of the bedroom on her own, well, that’s just not right and Banana throws herself onto the floor in a sulk.

Banana continues to talk to Karen as they walk to the kitchen. Under no circumstances are there to be distractions along the way—food bowls are empty, and at least one cats’ tummy is rumbling.

The only time Banana is quiet in the kitchen is when she’s eating. She loves company at mealtimes, but really must focus on her food. Exactly 15.6 seconds after the human leaves the kitchen, Banana does too. It’s lonely in the kitchen without her people! The best days for Banana are when the people are home all day—then she has the potential of 67 or more trips to the food bowls, as the people make breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, coffee, tea, wash dishes, take laundry through, go in and out to the garage, bake, talk on the phone, and any number of other human activities. Most days, Banana is lucky if her people are in the kitchen long enough to make breakfast, pack a lunch, and then leave for the day.

When they’re gone, Banana spends part of her day perched on a table by the front window, watching for the return of Karen.

As soon as she sees Karen’s car in the driveway, Banana runs to the back door, for she has much to tell Karen: about the birds that came to the feeder, the funny way Cheese was sleeping today, the squirrel bathing outside on the back step, the way Twitch taunted her from the backyard by jumping up on Banana’s favorite chair and cleaning herself! Karen politely listens, but just in case Karen missed anything, Banana repeats all the stories, from the beginning, until bedtime. She does break for snacks, and for the much-needed scratch-behind-the-ears-and-down-to-the-tail-oh-that’s-good sessions that occur nightly at 6:46, 7:29, 8:14, 9:03, and 10:37.

BST (Banana Sleep Time) dictates a quiet house by midnight, otherwise a sleepy-headed Banana will place herself between any human and any thing they are looking at—computers, television, magazines, books.

After all, tomorrow is another day, and Banana has so much to tell them!