Cohabitating with Squirrels: Lessons from the Side Yard

One warm afternoon as I was driving past my house, I caught sight of something unexpected: a squirrel, stretched out and lying perfectly flat on the arm of an Adirondack chair in my side yard. It was so still that, for a moment, I wondered if it was dead. Horrified, I thought, What kind of sick person would lay a dead squirrel on my chair?

I stopped the car and rolled down the window for a closer look. The squirrel noticed me, lifted its head slightly—as if to say, What are you looking at?—and then lazily went back to napping. I laughed and said aloud, “You act like you live here!”

Then I caught myself. That was a ridiculous thing to say. Of course it lives here. This is its yard, its neighborhood, its city—just as much as it is mine. The squirrel doesn’t know about deeds, mortgages, or HOA rules. It was born here, and if it’s lucky, it will live out its days here. This urban environment is not an ideal place for a squirrel—cars whizzing by, a limited canopy of trees, scarce natural food—but it’s home. And this little rodent is not complaining.

As I considered its life challenges, my heart softened for the little napper. I’ve since added a miniature Adirondack chair to this rest area and use it as a peanut station for the squirrels.

Living With (Not Against) the Squirrels

To be clear: I know squirrels can be a nuisance. They dig in your flower pots, uproot your newly planted flowers, rob/destroy your bird feeders, or take up residence in your attic or gutters. People have spent significant time and energy finding ways to control this behavior.  I’ve taken a different route. Now I scatter peanuts and birdseed across the yard when I reload the bird feeders. It gives the squirrels something to do—and less incentive to engage in acrobatics on my bird feeders. When I mentioned this to a clerk at the feed store, she nodded knowingly. Turns out, others have seen similar results. Squirrels don’t necessarily want to perform stunts for food. They’re just trying to eat.

To deter them from digging in my flower pots, I’ve started placing a layer of pebbles on top of the soil. It works well and has the added benefit of helping the soil retain moisture during the summer heat.

Boundaries and Repairs

My biggest squirrel-related challenge was when they chewed a hole in my house and moved into the attic. I could hear them partying overhead at night—delighted with their new penthouse suite. A bag of mothballs persuaded them to relocate, and a carpenter patched the hole. He reported that they had moved into the (covered) rain gutter and had babies there.

The family had to be evicted again, which made me feel guilty. That poor, determined mother squirrel was just doing her best to make a safe home for her young. Still, boundaries are important.

A Shared Sanctuary

Nowadays, my local squirrels are regulars at the Timeless Garden Oasis. They often star in videos captured by my wildlife camera. I’ve noticed fewer dead squirrels along the road, possibly because they no longer need to travel far for food or water. They even seem more relaxed now that they’re able to stay well fed and hydrated. We’ve all seen “crazy” squirrels that dart in front of your car, then double-back just when you think it’s safe to proceed. My squirrels are more chill, relatively speaking. Twice I’ve seen a squirrel lounging on my front porch with one of my cats only a few feet away inside the glass door, more evidence that the squirrels feel at home here. I always say “hello squirrel” when I see them outside.

A Nutty Birthday Gift?

Here’s a little “food” for thought: On the morning of my birthday a few years ago, I opened the front door and found a peanut on the welcome mat. Not just any peanut—it was an extra-long one with four compartments. A prize peanut, clearly. And it was positioned perfectly to be noticed the moment the door opened.

Coincidence? Maybe. But I like to think it was a timely thank-you gift from the squirrels—my fellow residents and, perhaps, unexpected friends.