Nature’s way to stress reduction


	Alan Bodnar, Ph.D. is the Co-Director of Psychology Training at Westborough State Hospital, Mass. and a consultant in the field of leadership development.

By Alan Bodnar, Ph.D.

Feed the birds and you cannot fail to produce a spectacle guaranteed to soothe and distract even the most troubled spirit. A long time patient at our hospital with a flair for the spontaneous favors the straightforward feeding technique of cracking open a bag of birdseed and leaving it in a tire-swing. The birds make short work of his feast but so do the squirrels, chipmunks and skunks on night patrol. Of course, this kind of casual dining is frowned upon by the hospital administration for obvious reasons.

Safely feeding the wildlife and the human spirit at the same time was a challenge worth pursuing and, with the promise of much needed relaxation, I decided to do some research of my own. After a brief flirtation with a cut-rate bird feeder that did more for the squirrels than the birds, I was off to consult the good folks at our local Audubon Society gift shop.

The woman there was very helpful, explaining the differences between hanging feeders and feeders fixed to posts in the ground. There were even more complicated numbers but I was trying to keep it simple. I settled on a remarkable piece of engineering advertised as a squirrel-proof bird feeder. It consists of a clear cylinder made to be suspended from a tree limb or a pole with a curved top. Exactly 20 inches long, it exceeds the length of the longest known squirrel by one inch, making it impossible for even the most nimble of these critters to reach the feeder opening by hooking its rear paws on the top of the tube and stretching downward.

The tube's diameter of six inches, just a tad wider than the paw span of even a super-squirrel, combined with its smooth surface, defies the uninvited dinner guest to take hold and shimmy down the outside of the feeder. The most ingenious feature of the device, however, is its four break-away perches strong enough to support even large birds but guaranteed to give way under the burden of any squirrel athletic enough to make a grab for it.

Minutes after setting up the feeder, I was watching a remarkable variety of birds, arriving in waves from staging areas in the trees and occupying every available perch. As they ate, birdseed flew everywhere and more birds, chipmunks and yes, even squirrels, cleaned up the ground. Already I was beginning to feel relaxed, the day's tension and worries melting away in an Audubon bliss and I knew our patient with the tire swing was on to something important.

The feeder worked as advertised to frustrate the average squirrel but it was no match for the high-achievers. One climbed halfway up the support pole and stretched himself horizontally like a furry flag, just long enough to hook his snout into the feeding chute. A plastic flower pot around the pole made an effective barrier and was too wobbly to provide a stable footing, but that lasted only as long as it took for the squirrels to chew through it. The series of failed defenses reads as follows: 1) Using a skinnier pole - foils all but the most athletic squirrels; 2) Greasing pole with olive oil - no effect; 3) Moving rock successful squirrels use to launch themselves toward feeder - stronger leapers appear on the scene.

Of course, the break-away feature of the feeder's perches provides a temporary obstacle even to the champion jumper who gains his objective only to be spilled rudely on the lawn. That lasts as long as it takes for the consummate gymnast of the squirrel kingdom to grab hold of each perch at the point of attachment to the feeder where it has the most stability. Hanging on with all four paws and his back to the ground, he then arches his neck upward to reach the food.

In desperation, I began to shout at the squirrels - "Scram" - but that frightened the birds away as well. "No, not you, just the squirrels." Now, in my quest for the perfectly relaxing activity, I was talking to the animals and, what's worse, I seemed to think they could understand me. Maybe a bullhorn aimed directly at the squirrels would make things clearer, "Step away from the feeder. Put your paws where I can see them." I realized I was going about this all wrong when I saw an ad in the paper for a bird-proof squirrel feeder at a bargain price. Made in China, they were shipped with instructions in Chinese and had to be sold cheaply in a predominantly English-speaking market. Mine is still in the box and I'm relying on the diagrams to guide me when I put it together next weekend.

In the meantime, I am having nightmares about a race of super-squirrels emerging through natural selection for their ability to access birdseed. They are unusually long, with Velcro-like pads on their paws, superior jumping ability, strong limbs, thick, muscular yet flexible necks and a perfect sense of balance. The other day a letter arrived from the Municipal Light Plant explaining that four of the eight power interruptions during the past year were caused by squirrels coming into contact with the electrical line and creating faults. They want us to believe that these were harmless accidents but I know better. I also know something about how to feed the birds but, as for relaxation, there's a fellow at the hospital I have to see about getting a tire swing.

Nature’s way to stress reduction (August/September 2007 Issue)

By Alan Bodnar, Ph.D.

Nature’s way to
stress reduction
(August/September 2007 Issue)