squirrels – Dexter

Obsession

No, not some perfume which has probably been tested on beagles and then sold to unsuspecting people, but apparently something that applies to me.

I am a beagle, you may have noticed. Lenny is also a beagle and, again, this may have come to your attention. In that case, my parents want to know, how are we so different when it comes to certain small furry creatures which run along the fence at the back of my garden sending me into some delirium in the process. Of course I refer to squirrels. The grey variety that hitched a ride over from the North American continent and which now plague woods, forests and my garden so successfully. I would like to thank whoever it was that thought they would be a good idea, but I cannot do so.

They have been cavorting all day and I have been unable to control my whining and pacing in and out of different rooms to get a better view of them. As my view improves the whine goes up a decibel or ten, with associated baying when I cannot get to them. I move from a chair in the living room to the kitchen, back to the living room, off to a bedroom overlooking the garden, return to the kitchen, push the closed and locked door in the (vain) hope it will open and then stand in the living room once more noisily whining at whichever parent is closest. It would appear I am tormented by them (squirrels not parents). According to said parents we are not going to live in a cave whereby any and all views into the garden are shut out with curtains, so my view is panoramic around the garden. As soon as I am released into the garden to chase off the pesky critter it merely leaps into a nearby tree and pulls faces at me. I return to the warmth of the living room and watch as the squirrel descends from its lofty perch and continues its efforts are sending me doolally.

Then Lenny decides to wake up and see what’s going on. I cannot believe that he has missed the entire squirrel bothering episode because he’s been sleeping soundly. Does he not understand that these creatures are our mortal foe, they represent everything that makes a beagle obsessed with shaking it warmly by the neck.

These pictures were taken about four seconds apart. He’s just awoken from his nefarious slumber. I had been like this for the previous ten minutes, gently whimpering at the scoundrel running amok in my garden. I really don’t understand how he can be so relaxed about having squirrels in the garden. Is he truly a beagle? Maybe it’s me? I think I need to have a bit of a lie down in a darkened room.

Oh deer, what is that scent?

Boing boing boing arooo. Hurry up and get out of bed. Its Bank Holiday Monday and we need to do something instead of having a well deserved lie in. Lenny delivered the wonderfully precise kidney pounce on dad and, suddenly, the morning tea was being made albeit with way too much grumbling about “we should have got Labradors or poodles”.

The spit spot of rain on the windows didn’t dampen our ardour for going on a long walk to dexplore more of the local area. Where would we go today? No one had a clue but we were on our paws and ready. Out of the house and turn left at the end of the road. Up the lane and along the footpath, turning right at the far end and back onto another lane. We know this lane as its part of our regular walks so we can pull and jerk in all the wrong places to get to the scents which lie in the periphery of the drainage ditches and edge of the woods on either side. Just past the stables we saw the squirrels run for cover as we approached. At this point Lenny decided to see a rabbit which caused mum to grumble about her arm being pulled out of its socket. Down the lane and across the brook we went, Lenny and I having a rare old time. Then we stopped in the road and expected to hear that we were turning around to head back home. This was standard practice but something seemed different today. It was decided for us that we would walk a little way down a bridle path which led off one side of the lane. As soon as we got through the gate, my nose was filled with a strange and wondrous scent and I tried desperately to break free from my shackles. It was deer and squirrels all mixed with the heady scent of rabbits. Also there was a scent I wasn’t quite sure of at the time but it would become apparent in a very short time. We strolled along the wide path and came to a tall gate which spanned the width of the path.

Welcome to the Knepp Wildland, part of the Knepp Castle Estate, it read. Please keep your dogs under control and on a lead, it continued. Deer, pigs and various cows roam free within the grounds. Oh my, oh wow it felt as if we had just stumbled upon a veritable playground for Beagles. Within a millisecond my path to fun and frivolity was blocked by dad who told me to sit. I was instructed to behave, walk nicely and not to bay at any animals that we may encounter. You’ve got no chance I thought. I looked at Lenny and he was clearly getting a similar sermon from mum and was thinking the same as me. Our leads and harnesses were checked and double checked to make sure we were (more than) adequately shackled. This was unfair. As soon as we were told to walk on we pulled and jerked on our respective leads so much so that dad thinks he’s invented a new pastime of beagle wrangling. The scents were everywhere. All we had to do was see a deer and our morning walk would be complete. We saw some rather large cows away in a meadow but we really needed to see deer. We could smell them but it seemed they weren’t happy to come and play. As we walked further into the estate the scents kept on coming and we kept on enjoying ourselves more and more.

The smell of the pigs was there, a little faint but definitely around. Ok, that’s enough decided dad as we stopped at the gate which led through to the next field. This was yet another decision taken on our behalf and without consultation with either myself or Lenny. So it was that we were turned around and began the long, slow and very much beagle brake applied walk back to the lane for the doleful return home. I would add though that Lenny and I did make the return journey with silly grins on our faces.

When we arrived home we were subjected to the ritual wiping of paws and it was as much as we could do to bay loudly for our second breakfast. We had earned it, that’s for sure. Then we were off to rest and reinvigorate our weary bones and brains. Six miles of scent and sights were clearly enough for us today.

Is another trip to Knepp on the cards? Oh I hope so as it was so much fun.

The A-Z of things I can do

Just to complete the series I thought I would look at some of the things that I am able to do.

A. Arooo loudly. This is probably the most obvious comment ever made.

B. Bitey face. I still excel at squabbling with Lenny in the house and garden.

C. Chase squirrels in my garden. They know not to settle for too long.

D. Destroy toys. Not as much these days, but I am still able to lobotomise them.

E. Enjoy my life. Even with my brother biting me, I still have a good life.

F. Find and eat field food quicker than I can get told off.

G. Go on days out and holiday. I did this before quarantine and will do it again soon.

H. Hike my parents across the fields and through mud. This is a speciality of beagles.

I. Injure myself through excessive shenanigans. I am currently injury free, thankfully.

J. Jump onto the garden table and out of the dental clutches of my vampiric brother.

K. Kick dad when I’m sleeping on the sofa. A fun activity.

L. Laugh. I make my parents smile. I can be an idiot sometimes apparently.

M. Make dad give me secret treats just by looking at him in a doleful way.

N. Nice sitting when treats may be involved.

O. Open mums heart just by looking at her sometimes.

P. Pretend to ignore Lenny’s antagonism, and then pounce on him.

Q. Question if Lenny is a vampire, a giraffe or just a pest. I suspect a mixture.

R. Run around the garden. See also (A) apparently.

S. Sleep more often, and snore more loudly. Allegedly it comes with age.

T. Tongue Out Tuesday. I have an extensive tongue which makes this quite easy.

U. Upset my parents when I don’t feel very well or look old and tired.

V. Views. Enjoy what I see whilst strolling around the lanes and fields near my home.

W. Wee on Lenny’s head if he’s not looking where he’s going on our walks.

X. e(x)pect my food to be provided on time. Is this too much to ask?

Y. Yawn. I seem to do this far more often now. Age? who knows.

Z. Zooms around the garden with or without Lenny.

I can smell a squirrel over a mile away.

Hardwired hound

I am aware that I haven’t blogged for some time so I want to rectify that omission on my part. There is no excuse on my part however I have been busy. In any case, I can now dictate my latest missive for publication.

Lenny and I have had a hectic few weeks. I blame squirrels. I also blame the earth for spinning and orbiting the sun. Finally I blame the seasons, specifically one of them namely Autumn. Maybe I should try to explain.

As a beagle harrier I am hardwired to chase small furry creatures that dare to enter my line of sight. Recently there has been a plethora of creatures present on our walks. On our walk through hill and vale we are restrained so any sighting of an unsuitable creature bounding across the road or field ahead of us means we are only able to advance to the end of the industrial strength leads. Worse still they have been invading my garden in the search for food for the forthcoming winter season. We have apple trees which should provide us with tasty and nutritious fruit for eating in their natural state as well as being baked in pies and tarts. This is in an ideal world and doesn’t account for the activities of the local squirrel, magpie and blackbird populations. I say local but it seems to attract all and sundry from around a ten mile radius. If it was only the magpies or blackbirds, the world would be a sane and reasonable place. Sadly, with the addition of squirrels, the facade of calmness is removed and replaced instead with frantic door scratching, constant whimpering and persistent marching from one door to another so I can get a better view of the pesky creatures whilst they cavort in my garden, eat apples and then try to bury their winter food in the grass. Being a beagle harrier with expert vision up to a mile or so, it is extremely difficult for me to miss seeing them in the garden. I have to constantly remind the parents that I should be chasing these furry little chaps and I need to be let out. At this point I should also comment that my little brother Lenny doesn’t help the situation much. He will fly out of the door with me and chase the squirrels up and down the garden. Once the invaders have been repelled he will wander nonchalantly up to the orchard and pick an apple off and start to eat it. I need not describe the look of sheer horror and abject disappointment that I feel.

Having said all the above, Lenny and I actually caught a squirrel last week and were about to play tug of war until we were foiled by our parents. We were strolling around the patio having a sniff when all of a sudden, from the left side, this squirrel wandered towards us. We were stunned at his bravado. Did he not realise who we are? Did he not understand that we are hardwired to “attend” to small furry chaps such as himself. In any case it didn’t matter as within a second his head was in my mouth and I was trying to cuddle him with my teeth. Lenny ran around cheering me on whilst asking to pay tug with the squirrel. My fun was short-lived as a dad shaped object advanced quickly upon our shenanigans and I was told in no uncertain terms to “DROP IT”. I followed the instructions but Lenny then picked the squirrel up and started to practice his dental lobotomy on the furry little chap. We knew we were in big trouble when mum appeared on the scene and the fun was over. Dad still had to remove the very scared, and somewhat drool covered, squirrel from the garden. Fortunately he was wearing gloves as the squirrel bit the finger of the glove to show his gratitude at being saved from a certain doom. Dad had the foresight to loosen his finger from the glove so he wasn’t bitten.

So there you have it. I blame the seasons, the earth spinning and orbiting the sun and the fact that Autumn is upon us. If it wasn’t for all of these factors combining there wouldn’t be as many squirrels in my garden and I wouldn’t be driven to absolute distraction by them. That’s my story and I am sticking by it.

I do think that Lenny looks at me sometimes and wonders why. Just why?