Wild Lives Hang by a Thread

When small rodents feed above ground they usually leave obvious signs of their meals in the form of inedible remains. I love finding these because they reveal a lot about what, how, and where these animals have been eating. It’s especially exciting when I see something unusual, and that’s exactly what happened a few weeks ago. I was walking along a seldom-used (but familiar to me) trail which, at one spot, runs along the edge of a large depression in the ground, about the size of a small room. As I scanned the sunken area I saw odd scatterings of small things on the snow. Looking more closely I saw that the scattered bits were maple seeds. There were red squirrel tracks in the same areas, and many of the seeds had been opened. I knew that gray squirrels fed on maple seeds, but this was the first time I had observed evidence of red squirrels doing that.

Here’s close-up to show that the seeds were really being eaten. If you look at the one near the center of the photo (the one with the winged end pointing toward the upper left) you can see that it was opened at the base.

In our region red squirrels normally favor large stands of conifers, and the most common feeding sign consists of piles of cone scales and cores under their favorite trees. Cavities among the roots are used for food storage, and dead branches part way up the trunks offer well protected feeding perches. So my discovery of feeding sites on the snow surface, the diet of maple seeds, and the location–a mixed forest of sugar maple, red oak, yellow birch, beech, white pine, and hemlock–seemed unusual for a red squirrel. But because I was familiar with the area from warmer seasons, I knew that the sunken pit was actually an old cellar hole, probably part of a 19th century homestead. The stone walls were partially collapsed, and the rocky jumble provided perfect spaces for food storage. It appeared that this red squirrel had discovered an attractive abode.

As I explored the place I noticed another hole, shown in the photo below. This hole was bigger and looked well used–it was probably the main entry to the squirrel’s underground accommodations. But as I examined it I realized that something violent had happened. There were some spots of blood near the opening, and some of the snow around it was disturbed. There were also tracks. If you look carefully at the photo below you’ll see two small impressions in the top center. And to the left of the large blood spots some very different tracks are visible.

This called for some tracking detective work. To show the details better the next photo is a close-up. Above and to the right of the hole the snow is compressed and disturbed, and spots of blood can be seen on the left side (along with a smaller spot to the right). Although they’re faint, you can see the two small prints at the top of the frame.

The tracks to the left of the hole are particularly intriguing–the clearest ones are shaped like the letter K lying on its back. These are owl tracks, probably made by a barred owl. In an owl track the vertical stalk of the K is on the inside of the foot and the shorter angled branches are on the outside. There are two prints made by the owl’s left foot, one above and partly on top of the other. The track of the right foot is less clear, but lies below and a little closer to the hole. This means the bird was facing to the right when it made the tracks. To help you sort all of this out I’ve repeated the photo above with the owl and squirrel tracks labelled.

Here’s my take on what happened: the victim was emerging from its hole when the owl swooped down and seized it in its talons. As the owl tightened its grip the squirrel struggled and hit the snow in several places, touching the snow with its front feet to make the two prints (Sq L and Sq R). Finally the owl’s talons fatally pierced the squirrel and it held the victim on the left side of the hole, causing the bloody spots. The owl then stood on the left side of the hole, shifting its feet slightly as it got a good hold of the squirrel with its beak. It then flew off carrying its meal.

The squirrel’s life ended abruptly, and the owl beat the odds–low on average–of hunting success. Was the old cellar hole, in spite of its suitability for food storage, too exposed for a squirrel to live there safely? Will another small rodent find that spot, take up residence, and maybe even eat the stores still hidden among the rocks? And will that owl revisit the site of its good fortune, hoping for another meal? Sudden death is the way of nature, but it’s also the way of nature for animals to learn from experience and take advantage of every opportunity. I’ll be sure to go by that old cellar hole again to see if it has more stories to tell.