Saints and Squirrels

I came across Mr. Francis here when in a church garden in the North End of Boston last weekend. I remember I used to see him everywhere in Ireland when I went to school there. Frank always shows up in the garden, in the most serene of landscapes; his stoney animal friends often juxtaposed by real birds flitting from flower to flower in that little gated paradise. I think we should stick him in less likely situations. At the front entrance to a factory. By the landfill. In McDonalds. Let's challenge ourselves to remember the patron saint of creatures great and small in real world situations- not in perfectly sculpted green lawns, where we can simply smile and say "Isn't that nice." After all, what's his message all about?


Here he is with a missing hand, which I found rather hilarious.... Lion-feeding accident, perhaps?? Even the human icon of the peaceable kingdom isn't exempt from the payback we're bound to endure for trading in our survival instincts for our troubled, busy, dissatisfied minds.

The birds in my own backyard are abundant and active. I tried feeding them and was enthralled with how quickly they caught on to the new seed location. However, the squirrels followed suit, and wiped out a month's rations in an afternoon. They're pretty cool, but the birds got the major raw end, and I was going through seed too quickly to continue feeding those already chubby, bushy tailed rodents. I need to block the extension pipe for the feeder with something that can't be climbed. I did try putting out suet, and for a week or two the birds were able to dine undisturbed. But, like they mastered the seed feeder, the squirrels eventually prevailed over the suet box as well:

I suppose there's still a hierarchy no matter whether you're feathered, furry, or nude.