Grey squirrel v. Red squirrel

It seems to me that Grey squirrels are more than a little like cats – those cats that know when someone doesn’t like them and purposefully seek out their laps to leap onto – or, at least, that is certainly the personality of the Grey squirrel that inhabits our garden. Let’s call him Sammy.

Sammy, our resident grey squirrel, and Bert, one of our fence-sitting pigeons

My housemate / landlady – let’s call her Jane – hates him, with good reason, as the little imp nibbled all the apples and pears off her fruit trees well before they grew big enough for her to harvest but he didn't touch a single one of the plump juicy delicious apples on the neighbour’s tree.

Sammy's Uncle Jim lives in a park in Runcorn

Jane loves most wild creatures and has worked in environmental management so she runs a wildlife-friendly garden, not cutting the hedge when the birds are nesting in it, leaving little piles of branches for hedgehogs to burrow under, littering the back lawn with bread, seeds and apple cores for the birds to eat when times are lean. Trouble is, Sammy likes to pinch the birds’ food as well – and he’s not very smart in processing it, rather stupidly choosing to bury pieces of bread in the flower borders. Jane is not amused, neither by the waste of a good bit of bread, nor by the damage to her borders.

Sammy's cousin George, who lives in the graveyard at Great Budworth

And just as cats are vilified for killing birds, so Grey squirrels are vilified for their adverse effect on the local environment. Though he was undoubtedly born in England, Sammy’s ancestors were North American immigrants. First introduced to the British Isles in the late 1870s by local landowners who considered them ‘exotic’ (what were they thinking?), Sammy and his fellow American Greys have made themselves at home throughout most of the British Isles, much to the detriment of the native Red squirrels. Not only did Sammy’s ancestors bring with them the squirrelpox virus (SQPV), which didn’t harm them but kills their Red cousins, Sammy and his fellow Greys compete with the Reds for food. And as the Greys have a broader food range – they’re able to eat nuts with high tannin contents, like acorns, which the Reds cannot digest – they have a better chance of survival when winters are hard and food resources scarce.

Sammy's cousins Huey, Dewey & Louie scavenging under the bird feeders at Marbury Country Park

Nowadays, there are estimated to be around 2.5million Greys in Britain, while only 10 – 15,000 Reds survive, mostly in Scotland and the north east of England. I was lucky enough to see a couple of Reds when I was here in the UK on holiday last summer and visited the National Trust’s pine woodlands at Formby, part of the National Red Squirrel Refuge and Buffer Zone. Although their local Red population was decimated by SQPV in 2008, numbers are once again on the increase, with help from the local rangers and an appropriate woodland management plan.

A Red at Formby pine woodlands

Luckily, there are plenty of other folks out there trying to save the Reds – and you can too, by supporting organisations like the Red Squirrel Survival Trust. Let’s hope they’re successful in their efforts as I’d hate to see the very cute locals overcome by the brash interlopers from across the Atlantic.

Along with the fine work being done by the RSST, there does seem to be a glimmer of hope in other quarters as well. Just last week I was reading environmentalist / activist / journalist George Monbiot’s piece ‘How to eradicate grey squirrels without firing a shot’, in The Guardian online, championing a natural solution to the grey squirrel problem, in the form of pine martens. He cited the current situation in Ireland where, it seems, pine martens have the Greys in full-scale retreat across the island and the Reds are moving in to territory abandoned by the Greys. Long may the Red repopulation continue!

Sammy's Aunt Jessie lives in a woodland near Hale

In the meantime, here in Cheshire, we still have Sammy scampering through our tree branches and hippity-hopping across the back lawn. Jane intends getting a trap and killing him but, if it were my choice, I just couldn’t do it. I do want to be environmentally friendly. I definitely want to help save the Reds. My mind tells me it’s the right thing to do but Sammy is such a little cutie that my heart wants to forgive him the sins of his ancestors and his kin.

There’s just something about the way he sits back on his hind legs, nibbling on the nut he’s clutching in his front paws. There’s something about those big doe eyes, and the way he quivers and shakes his bushy tail. And Sammy’s not the only Grey in the neighbourhood. I’ve seen at least two others chasing each other through the trees at the end of the garden so, if Sammy goes, will those two just settle in to his vacant place?

And that’s not my only question. Did pine martens ever live in this part of England? Would / could pine martens survive in our semi-rural garden? Wouldn’t Red squirrels need a lot more pine trees in the area before they could be reintroduced? Wouldn’t we need a lot more woodland in general for both creatures to survive here in Cheshire? And, if that’s true, then, in the meantime, should Sammy be allowed his particular place in the English sun? 

For me, the issue of Grey squirrel v. Red squirrel is a conundrum and I don’t know the solution. But, secretly, I will continue to enjoy Sammy’s antics while I can.

Sammy's second cousin-once-removed, Cyril, also lives in Runcorn

England: Formby Sands and Southport

This was a truly wonderful day that included a visit to an artisans’ market at a lavender farm, rare red squirrel spotting in the forests behind Formby Sands followed by a long walk along that glorious long sandy beach, topped off by a walk along lovely Lord Street, the esplanade and England’s second longest pier at Southport.

Sarah drove, I navigated – most of the time successfully! Up the M6, along the A580, for a visit to Inglenook Lavender Farm. By chance there was an artisan’s market on so we checked out the stalls – there was nothing of great interest, though I was very impressed with the chainsaw sculptures and and we did get ourselves some yummy lunch for a picnic later.

There was only one small field of lavender, which was a little disappointing – I was expecting fields and fields, great expanses of the stuff. Sarah thought it was because they’d already harvested the lavender but there didn’t seem to be anything in the surrounding fields. Still, there were some guinea fowl and some very cute black-faced sheep mooching around in that one lavender field, which made for a few good photos. I actually took lots of photos but failed to get a single one in really sharp focus, so I was annoyed at myself for that. I think my eyes are the problem – wearing distance lenses and trying to focus on a close subject. That’s my excuse anyway!

Onwards, along more country lanes lined with fertile fields planted with various crops and edged and dotted with interesting-looking old farmhouses and barns. We picked up drinks and chocolate muffins at a Tesco supermarket, then eventually found ourselves at Formby, home to the wealthy footballers who play for Manchester United and Liverpool. I’m sure a few of them sped impatiently past us in their flash cars as we drove more sedately through the streets full of their large, expensive houses.

Head past those streets and you’ll come to an area of extensive pine woodlands, towering sand dunes and the Formby Sands, a long and exceedingly beautiful stretch of coastline that borders the Irish Sea. We ate our picnic lunch, then strolled through the woodlands, hoping to spot one of the small population of red squirrels that lives amongst the trees. The reds used to be the only squirrel species in the UK, until the brash American greys were introduced in the late 1800s – not only do they digest acorns better, they also brought the pox virus with them, which decimated the local red population. Luckily, the reds are making a comeback in this haven at Formby and, even more luckily, we managed to spot a couple. They move fast though, so my photos aren’t very sharp.

We then headed across the dunes and down to the beach for a bracing walk in the stiff breeze. It is a popular place for family picnics, long beach strolls, walking the dog or riding a horse, flying kites and wakeboarding, or trying to locate the prehistoric animal and human footprints that can sometimes be found in the silt beds along the shoreline. We didn’t find any of those, but did spot plenty of black-headed gulls and washed-up jellyfish, marvelled at the large array of wind turbines sited out to sea, and could just make out the tower and the huge rollercoaster across the shimmering water at Blackpool.

Our last stop of the day was Southport, a seaside town that was particularly popular around the turn of the 19th century. Its architecture reflects those halcyon days, with several interesting buildings dotting the Esplanade and even more along the main road, Lord Street. There are some grand sculptural features, including carved heads and classical columns, wrought iron verandahs cover the footpaths, and, in the summer months, gorgeous flowering baskets beautify the streets. Lord Street has a wide central strip with an impressive war memorial, bandstand, cafés and gardens – it’s all very grandiose for a relatively small city.

As well as being by the seaside, Stockport has a large seawater lake / lagoon that we walked around – seagulls and Canada geese competed for my camera’s attention, as did the big suspension bridge over the water. Southport also has the second-longest pier in England but we only got halfway along its 1112 metres as it closes at night – we had left that part of our wander till last, thinking to watch the sun set over the water.

Dinner that evening was fish and chips – so appropriate after a day at the seaside, and rather delicious it was too! And then we had a 45-minute drive home, an extremely quiet trip along the M6 as most people were glued to their televisions, watching the World Cup final.