The squirrels were squawking up a storm when I walked outside to replace their daily corn cob in the Squirrel Cafe.

“Why are you so scared of me? Aren’t you used to me yet?” I’ve been feeding the little tree rats for years.

I looked up into the maple tree on which the cafe sits. I saw a raucous squirrel screaming from his branch close to the trunk, which overlooks the front of my garage. Then I swung my head toward the evergreen at the far end of the garage. Another squirrel screamed from a tree branch. And just two branches higher sat a hawk.

What was the hawk doing there? I could only imagine that the hawk thought that our Squirrel Cafe was for him to feed on squirrels instead of for squirrels to feed on corn. My heart beat faster as I realized that one squirrel sat inches away from the hawk.

I tightened my grasp on the corn cob that the squirrels had stripped of kernels the day before. I’d removed it from the cafe, so that I could load a fully kerneled cob onto the screw that holds a cob for the squirrel’s eating pleasure. I wound up my arm in what my husband calls the “candy arm” style favored by women. Then I flung the cob at the hawk.

My cob fell short of the hawk, but the motion scared him away. My squirrels were safe. At least for the moment.

I later learned that the squirrels had protected themselves by sitting next to the tree trunk. Apparently a hawk must swoop down to nab its prey. If it tried to swoop on my smart squirrels, my momentum would have driven it into the trunk. That hawk would have been toast.

Since that scary day, I’ve learned that the hawk frequents our neighborhood. Good thing my backyard offers plenty of shelter to squirrels. They’re never more than a couple yards away from a tree trunk or bush.