A blue jay swooped down, grabbed the peanut off the top of the shepherd’s hook and flew into a tree with her prize.

What were the squirrels doing during this attack?

Cowering in the bushes, where they’d retreated when I came out to install their daily corn cob in the Squirrel Cafe’, which stands across the yard from the shepherd’s hook.

On those rare occasions — once every 10 years — when Iggy acts timidly, I say, "you squirrel" instead of "you chicken."