Aberrant Behavior

Weather predictions in Portland point to possible severe weather in the upcoming days. I take these predictions with more than a grain of salt because forecasts have developed a hysterical Chicken Little tone in recent years – "The sky is falling, the sky is falling!" I find it tedious to jump with alarm every time temperatures might fall below freezing, or precipitation might be heavy, or – gasp, Oh my! – there might be snow. But today, I have to wonder.

Yesterday afternoon, my partner ran into the House decrying an aggressive squirrel. I glanced up from the computer and raised my eyebrows. "Attacking? Really?" I got up and went to check for this marauding miscreant myself. Indeed, a small gray squirrel sat atop the load of wood she'd been bringing to the front porch in a wheel barrow. When I cracked open the Door, it turned its head toward me. Without hesitation, the creature leapt to the steps, darting toward me with the confidence of a household pet. I slammed the door shut and the fuzzy-tailed critter jumped onto the screen where it proceeded to scratch and claw. By now my partner was standing next to me, and Kelley – the dog – stood on hind legs staring over the back of the couch at the squirrel stretched across the screen. Undeterred, it searched for access.

We studied it as it tried to come through the screen – no foam around the mouth, coat and tail looked full, its eyes weren't wild or bloodshot, it appeared healthy."Could it have babies inside the house somewhere?" I mused out loud. Didn't seem likely in the dead of winter and besides, surely it hadn't come in through the front door if it did. I spoke that thought out loud just as the squirrel found an opening in the bottom of the screen and scurried through. In a moment, it was jumping on the doorknob. "Then again, maybe while we're away, it climbs through the screen door, picks the lock, turns the knob, and waltzes in." We laughed uneasily.

Realizing she (we decided it was a she because we couldn't see any evidence to the contrary) couldn't come through the front door; she dashed around the house and made an attempt at the dog door. Kim slid the door closed just in the nick of time. "Whoa! That's crazy! I've never seen a squirrel so determined to come in a house with people and a dog." Still, we both agreed the squirrel's behavior seemed less crazy than resolute. We wondered again about young ones hidden away somewhere in our house. Disappearing into the bushes in the direction of the feeder stuffed with corn and sunflower seeds, we assumed the episode was over.

We were wrong. Our wild rodent visitor snuck into the fully enclosed back porch while we weren't watching and proceeded to munch an apple in the hanging basket there. When surprised by Kim, she soared overhead and dived into a large plastic bag filled with other plastic bags. She could not be dissuaded by noise or prods from the broom, or even sniffing dogs, to vacate the spot and snuggled in, creating her own nest – or drey – among the plastic bags. She spent the night there, she is there still.

They say wild animals can sense weather events: drops in barometric pressure, shifts in the wind, or seismic rumblings all have caused observed changes in animal movements and actions. No squirrels have ever invaded our house, no matter the coming weather so I tend to feel something else must be going on with this one. The dogs demonstrate no concern about an upcoming storm. But then, why should they? The dogs assuredly are not wild – they own jackets and sleep under down comforters. Storm, shmorm – phooey, they don't care.

Probably this little gal is brain deficient. Or got kicked out of an over-crowded nest. Or has some dread disease. But if tonight a great whopping storm hits, I'll consider myself foretold and forewarned.