Along with the fox skulls nailed to the shed and the flag pole, and a horned sheep skull on the guinea-pig hutch, we have a horse skull just outside the back door. And very decorative it looks too.
It was the attentive cat looking out through the back door that first drew my eye to the grey squirrel. Even though its head was hidden, and therefore it could not see her, she knew that there was no point in dashing out through the cat flap; by the time she had four paws on the patio, the squirrel would be off up the fence and gone. She’d tried many times before, all to no avail.
But her swishing tail made me look up at what was so agitating her. At first I could not quite make out what was going on. All I could see was the squirrel’s back end, with its fluffy tail twitching sinuously back and forth like a snake charmer’s serpent. It seemed to have its head buried in one of my skulls.
Along with the fox skulls nailed to the shed and the flag pole, and a horned sheep skull on the guinea-pig hutch, we have a horse skull just outside the back door. And very decorative it looks too. It was this giant bone to which the squirrel was paying undue attention. Fascinated, I went out to have a look what was happening, only to find that said squirrel had been eating it. There are a clear series of teeth marks along the inside of the orbit. These are not just vague scratches, but deep and concerted scraped gouges. Skullduggery indeed.
Of course, I soon discover that grey squirrels (and reds too) are not as vegetarian as their public image might suggest, and it is well known for them to chew carrion, small bones and fallen antlers. They are also recorded as killing and eating hatchling birds, eggs and even young rabbits. Presumably, it’s the calcium, phosphorus and other minerals that they are after. If the cats knew this, they might not be so keen to try and catch the local greys. They might get a bone-crunching bite in return.
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