Nuts to You Squirrels -- A Task of Epic Proportions

It has been awhile since my last writing about the squirrels that have invaded and almost taken over our small farm in Lake County. (Actually, this the first writing, but it seems like a lifetime of stories about these little critters.)

The whole thing began last year when we noticed that our four young fruit trees were beginning to bear some good looking fruit. I checked it out and found that they would be best picked on our next trip up. When we got there, there was not an apricot, apple or peach to be found. Now, Lake County is known for its' growing climate and is the state's largest producer of pot plants. Surely, my fruit trees could not be mixed up with any other crop.

On closer observation I found pits around some of the trees and even found a pit near a hole next to the pump. It didn't take much to figure out that the squirrels had been feasting on our fruit.

Fast forward to last winter. I walked around our walnut orchard and found pounds of empty walnut shells stacked around some of the holes in the orchard.

Being that we are certified organic growers, one does not simply toss out squirrel bait to wipe out the little thieves. That's when the real fun began.

I discovered in a farm magazine a wonderful little invention consisting of 20-feet of hose and a clamp that secures the hose to your exhaust pipe on the truck. You stick the hose in the nearest squirrel hole, let the engine idle -- and you have (supposedly) wiped out every squirrel in that den. The problem turned out that there too many holes in the orchard and it would be winter again before even knowing if I was successful. That was $125 literally down the hole!

The next bright idea recommended by a fellow grower was a solar-powered vibrating stake that is  supposed to shake the ground and emit a sound that drives the squirrels nuts, as the saying goes. After two months and $50, the only evidence of any action was the cap of the solar emitter had been removed by curious squirrels.

Trying to be as humane as possible, I invested in a rodent trap that you set out in the orchard with some tempting food in it. The squirrel enters, a door slams shut, and he or she is stuck, however, with the food that lured them in in the first place. That was the most effective to date. When we got back later that week we had bagged a small squirrel and two baby skunks. I wondered who had lured who into the trap first. There were no survivors.

"Try shooting them with a .22," a neighbor suggested. That was some fun, being an animal tracker, but that effort ended abruptly when my grandson put some lead in a neighbor's garage wall. Meanwhile, the squirrels continue to chatter to each as a form of warning when humans approach.

The final blow came when I went out to start the BBQ, which sits on a concrete platform behind the house. Something was out of place and it did not seem right. On closer inspection I saw that the entire concrete platform had dropped six inches into the ground. Next to the sinking platform was a large hole with finely ground dirt in a neat pile. The squirrels were now undermining sheds, platforms, and even the asphalt driveway.

So, what is an organic farmer to do? How to eliminate the squirrels without affecting the organic status? Well, fortunately, there is an exception in the rules that allows poison "inside" the domestic living area boundaries, as long as the orchard is not affected by any of the material. Great, I said to myself after consulting with my neighbor. Over I drove to the dealer, who was about five miles away. New hours and they are closed on Saturday. OK, I just make a lot of noise when I am there to make the squirrels think Attila the Hun is stalking them.

Yesterday morning, after an early trip to Lake County, I dropped in on the dealer to pick up a little package of the magic potent that would end my troubles around the house. Guess what, the clerk asked to see my "Private Applicator Certification Training for Rodenticide Users Certificate." Otherwise known as: "No certificate, no stuff!" While I gritted my teeth, I kindly (sort of) asked where I could procure such a certificate. He told me that I had to go to the County Farm office, eight miles away. Off I went, and found the office on top of a hill overlooking Clear Lake. "This should be the simple end to a long, sad chain of events that started innocently enough when my fruit went missing," I thought.

I was greeted by a helpful clerk who asked what I needed. I told her and she said that there is a rash of squirrels in the county and that the cause, she thought, was because of the decline in the rattlesnake population. She said that things were looking a little better, and that she had killed three rattlers in her yard so far this year. So much for the good news, as the bad news was delivered by her boss, the local Agricultural Commissioner. I have to take a class and then an exam to get the certificate. In the meantime, the squirrels can just keeping undermining my farm. He was very helpful and told me that he could sign me up for the class and exam on Sept. 22. I jumped at the chance, signed up, muttering to myself how government has had a way of creeping into both my and my squirrel's lives.

The moral of the story, at least to this point, is: "Don't count your squirrels until you have a certificate."

(Note: for readers interested in learning more, simply go to: www.vpcrac.org and follow the instructions. You should have NO trouble at all.)