Squirrel Diaries - Part 1

 Losing your heart to a squirrel in the Great Karoo – and finding yourself in the process.

Chasing Chippie

The first time I saw Chippie, she was fleeing a man and a woman chasing her up the road next to my house.

A baby ground squirrel? All alone here in Cradock suburbia? I gave chase to save this poor persecuted mite but within seconds realised I’d completely misjudged the situation.

The housekeeper and the gardener had been trying to herd it back to the house behind ours, which belonged to the Rademeyer’s. “Here, have some bread, Chippie,” I overheard the housekeeper crooning.

A month or so later, I heard a suspicious rustling in the garage. Rolling my eyes and suspecting a rat, I investigated quietly. The very same ground squirrel from next door popped out of cardboard box and eyed me quizzically.

I was instantly charmed. From then on, she became a regular visitor, and in fact, she started nesting among all the newspapers in the garage.

Ground Squirrel Diaries

 The first thing I learnt about ground squirrels is they are not early risers. The sun would be well up before she made her way out of her newsy bed, scratching her belly luxuriously in the sun.

 The second thing is that ground squirrels are way smarter than they look. Chippie (we just called her Squirrie or Squirrrrrr) soon figured us as a ready source of raw peanuts and more importantly, how to encourage us to give them to her.

 Through the fly-screen of the back door I’d see her eyeing me, then she’d suddenly spring into a little pantomime. She’d pick up an imaginary item from the ground, pretend to eat it, then open her hands dramatically. “Look, there’s nothing here!”

And then she’d graciously accept an offer of nuts – even more eagerly if they were laced with raisins.

Squirrel tackles cats

 The third thing I learnt was that small as she was, Squirrie loved to play. She’d initiate a game by stepping forward and biting my big toe – guaranteeing a gratifying (to her, at any rate) response.

 Then she’d hurtle in and out of the garage, dodging my hands, flicking her tail left and right as she practiced her jinking escape manoeuvres. She was a master. She was also utterly silent, except for the games. When she got excited, she’d emit a faint, high-pitched whine.

 Best of all was the dismay she caused among the cats. Blackett the swashbuckling Puss in Boots had quickly sized Chippie up as a useful prey item. But she refused to behave like one. In fact she’d stroll right up to him in mid-stalk and begin nibbling a stalk of kikuyu.

 Even worse, she’d sneak up on the cats and bite their tails. The indignity! - By Julienne du Toit

Look out for Episode 2: Squirrel-napped!