There’s a huge, beautiful oak tree in my backyard. It sits right next to my deck and provides us with cooling shade and seasonal color. I love it, I do, but this is the time of year when the tree gets a little cranky.
It’s tired. I get that. It’s been buffeted by winds, pelted with rain. Birds and squirrels have been climbing all over the branches with blatant disregard. The tree has been a good sport lo these many months, but now the poor dear needs a vacation. You can almost see it breathe a sigh of relief as each leaf falls to the ground. I suspect, however, that there is pent up anger tucked away somewhere because her acorns are coming at us like BB shot. They do not fall; they do not cascade; they seem to be jettisoned off the branches with intentional force.
These acorns are big, better and an inch long and when they fall, they make quite an impression – literally. They’re heavy enough to put pockmarks in a windshield if we were silly enough to park one within range. We learned that the hard way and so did our dear departed dog Freeway, who got beaned several times before figuring out that she needed to take her naps closer to the house.
We call it the attack of the killer acorns. And there are lots of them, lots and lots, piling up daily among the remnants of last season’s cedar bark.
Sadly, my squirrels don’t want any part of them. Maybe being so brawny these acorns are like a tough piece of meat. Maybe they have a gamey aftertaste. Whatever it is, my squirrels are passing on them, thank you very much. They’re almost too big for the chipmunks to tuck in their cheeks, and why should they, anyway? Both the squirrels and the chipmunks have free access to the sunflower seeds in the birdfeeders.
I’ve heard that deer sometimes eat acorns, but I have a tall fence and the deer would rather eat my pansies, anyway. I read somewhere that some pigs root around after acorns, but I don’t know any pigs firsthand, and there’s probably a neighborhood statute against owning one, so that’s no help at all.
It will all work out. Some acorns will be swept up in the fallen leaves. Some will drop into the fake pond. A choice few will snuggle down into the soil and sleep for the winter, emerging next spring as hopeful seedlings. Of course, I’ll go right out there and yank them up. Poor little guys. It’s a numbers game and they were the winners and still they lose. I feel terrible about it, but unless I want to go into logging, (There’s probably a neighborhood statute about that, too.) I have no other choice.
If the squirrels would just make acorns part of their diet I wouldn’t have to be such a killjoy. So what if acorns are not their favorite? I don’t like kale but every once in a while I force it down for the sake of my health. I’ll bet acorns have squirrel-type vitamins and minerals. If each squirrel would eat one acorn each day and save the sunflower seeds for dessert, nothing would go to waste.
Does the tree care either way? No. She’s just happy to be shed of them. Like a pair of pinchy shoes, she’s flinging off what’s left of 2015 and settling in for a little arboreal shut-eye. I get that. Get some rest, sweetie. The sap will be rising soon enough.
