Snakes and squirrels and an unlikely hero.

Mr. Squirrel, peering out of his family residence in the Knobthorn at my front door.

I have a family of squirrels that have been living in a hollow in the big Knobthorn at my door for years. There was a time before I fixed the roof that they had access to the crown at the top as well as atop a wall in the kitchen and bathroom and I used to catch them raiding the kitchen from time to time but they were nowhere near the destructive force of the primates who live around me; baboons and vervets who can wreak untold havoc if given the chance.

The squirrels had two little ones this year and it is wonderfully entertaining to see them growing up and playing as well as being just being naughty adolescents.

One of the youngsters tackling a particularly resilient twig, a comical sight to see.

 Each year, at some time in the summer, usually at a time when the weavers are very busy with building nests, mating and raising chicks, a local Boomslang (a highly venomous tree snake) drops by to terrorise not only the weavers but also the squirrels and everyone else who flies or crawls in to refresh at one of the birdbaths.

This year, though, as a result of the drought and despite some very frenetic activity by the weavers at the beginning of the year, they have moved on and the few empty nests that were built are slowly disintegrating in the sun, wind and more recently, the rain.

The Boomslang arrives.

The Boomslang was no doubt a bit disappointed by the lack of fledglings to steal yet he still took up residence in the squirrels’ drey, much as he has done on previous visits. Usually, he moves on in a few days but this year he has been squatting longer than ever before, much to the consternation of all the local residents who use the area around the tree.

Every morning, as he emerges from the hole to first bask his face in sunshine before setting out to hunt, the birds and squirrels go berserk and alarm until I come out to once again see what their consternation is all about, at which point things quieten down a bit as they are satisfied that the human is dealing with the problem.

Bathing his face in morning sunshine.

What they don’t understand, is that a) I cant get anywhere near the hole to do anything about it and b) If I could get up there, what could I do anyway, a bungling, middle-aged terrestrial human against an agile arboreal serpent with perhaps the most venomous bite possible?

This is where the squirrels decided to up the ante and take the matter into their own hands. Those of us (I’m usually the only human) living here are acquainted with the Monitor Mensch, Monty, who lives under the pergola of the guest cottage. He has a reputation for being a bit of a brute and it was seems that his services had been acquired by the squirrel family as they enthusiastically watched him swagger up to the Knobthorn, their tails twitching in excitement as the intruder made his way up the tree to evict the Boomslang , the male squirrel even nipping the snake’s tail as he fled into the Euphorbia.

It sat a while in a dark shady alcove of the huge Euphorbia adjacent to the Knobthorn, watching and waiting for things to die down and then it crossed over into the Mopane canopy, only to disappear amongst the greening foliage beyond. Monty hung out for a while to make sure that the Boomslang didn’t return before climbing down to the birdbath and getting on with his day.  Needless to say, it didn’t take long for the squirrels to reclaim their prime real estate and the male has been seen chasing one of his rivals that had come to gawk at the proceedings.

Monty the bouncer and a Mensch of a Monitor.

As of now, whilst penning these words, the squirrels are once again in control and Monty makes a climb every now and then, just to keep his word that their domain stays relatively snake free. When the resident Sand Snake came by yesterday, not a word was said, nor an alarm uttered, Sand Snakes only climb bushes to mate but spend their days chasing dwarf geckos from the ground and wouldn’t bother with a hole so high in a tree. Or, maybe tangle with Monty.

Hangin' out! No-one messes with Monty.

In conclusion, for the Ladies out there, a flower! A semi-succulent that I have found only recently here on Mansimvula. It is known as Ystervark Wortel, which directly translates as Iron Pig Root. But then an Iron Pig is actually a porcupine so we can safely assume it is also known as porcupine root.

I know it as Tallinum caffrum.