Squirrels

Julie A. Dickson

My father arrested squirrels
long before aluminum cones
affixed to bird feeder pole
were patented; he improvised
with a metal trash can lid, drilled
out center – Havahart trap set,
peanut butter coated crackers 
and paws, thrashed in cage,
he painted tail tips white. Aha!
They returned to abscond with seed
meant for cardinals and bluebirds.

I feed the squirrels, not the birds;
unshelled peanuts, their favorite.
Daily I watch squirrels, distant
companions from window,
peanuts grasp, gnaw, and release;
one has a bad eye, another scarred,
attacked by hawks? I only bawk 
at the gigantic turkeys and jays
who disrupt squirrels, welcome friends,
recognize my voice from kitchen 
window, where peanuts are thrown.



Julie A. Dickson is a rescuer of feral cats, advocate for captive elephants and a poet. Dickson writes of nature, environment, animal and human rights, bullying and teen issues. Her poetry can be found in Ekphrastic Review, Blue Heron Review, Poetry Quarterly, The Harvard Press, among others. Full length works are available on Amazon. Her poem, The Sky must Remember was nominated in 2018 for a Push Cart Prize.

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