Of course, hardly any birds eat from our bird feeder because the squirrels always get to it first. My mother just calls them "squirrel feeders" for that reason. That's okay. We enjoy the squirrels.
We think that there is one squirrel in particular who must live in the trees right behind our house. Of course, it's impossible to know for sure if it really is the same squirrel, but we like to think he's "our squirrel." L. calls him Mr. Grey Squirrel. We've seen him in all four seasons. We've watched him swing bravely from the very highest branches. We've watched him boldly taunt our squirrel-killing terrier. We've watched him play and chase other squirrels. Once, as L. will tell you, we even saw a whole pack of squirrels. True story.
My co-slice-of-life-challenge-author, Little L., will tell you all about it here, at bed time, in her pajamas: