March Comes in

I an engaged in a war with squirrels. They've decided that knocking down the bird feeders is the best way to get at the sunflower seeds they crave. Today the weather was warm for February, above freezing. The patches of ground beneath the feeders where the black seed hulls were carelessly dropped by the bird and squirrels caught the sun's warmth and melted the snow. There the earth shows through, but not for long. It's still winter and snow is coming tonight and through tomorrow.
I can see the damage on the branches of the apple trees where the feeders hang. The squirrels are trying to chew through them. This means I'll have to buy feeder posts.
I think of the squirrels as pests and would rather not feed them, but my mother-in-law thinks they have as much a right to the seed as the birds do. She is amused by them and thinks they are clever. I don't agree, but I might find some sort of cheap corn to keep them busy while doing what I can to discourage them from too much of my seed.
I admit they are amusing to watch. One little bugger responded to my throwing bread crumbs over the snow by burrowing across the surface with his front paws, propelling himself with his back legs. When he'd find a tasty crouton, he stopped to eat it.
I'm feeding the birds because my mother feeds them, and in doing so I feel closer to her. My Dad passed away last year, and his passing makes it clearer that she may only be here for several more years. Women in my family live into their 90s and I hope she will too. There's is so much more I want to say, things I hope I told my Dad.
In his failing years He lived back in World War II in the surgical hospital where he did his work in 1943. When I saw him I just let him talk. Now I wear a 1943 steel penny around my neck in remembrance of him. Time is passing. The birds are hungry again. I think I'll pop around the old homestead to see my Mum.