I had the feeders arranged in a visually attractive pattern, but had to keep moving things around. Three times a squirrel managed to knock the peanut feeder off its stand. Each time that little pest ran off with the entire feeder which I eventually found some distance away with its top removed and every single peanut gone.
I bought clear plastic baffles, secured the feeders onto their posts with wire ties and hooks, substituted a chain for the hanger that had come with the feeders. Each time the squirrels outwitted me.
So I bought several sturdier posts and baffles and moved all the feeders onto the grassy area of my yard. Not too convenient for mowing, but at least there's a chance that we can hold onto the feeders. I have, however, already spotted a squirrel climbing onto a branch that's above one of the feeders. I can almost hear him planning his strategy and calculating the distance.
But for now I've got tons of birds—house finches by the dozens, some cardinals, woodpeckers big and small, mourning doves, and a few other varieties.
So far only one goldfinch even though I bought a feeder with bright yellow on it which the woman at the store told me tricks the goldfinches, as they fly by, into thinking that other goldfinches are down there and that they'd better stop by for a free meal.
The same feeder just a few hours later
What does any of this have to do with poetry? Nothing! At least not yet, but I wouldn't be surprised if a squirrel poem eventually emerges. After all, this battle has put me more in touch with Nature, honed my observational skills, and engaged me in conflict—all ingredients for poetry.