Squirrelling away support for woodland royalty

Anxious to support an endangered native species, Fiona has installed a feeder in her garden and is on the lookout for visitors

Returning from London, we pick up the MacNaughties from the stables where they have been staying.

The doggies appear to have behaved themselves in our absence – and they seem to have had the best time.

The cocker and the Norfolk are covered in sawdust and smell strongly of horse. They are also exhausted and the initial frenzy at the pack being back together is followed by a complete collapse. It means we can empty suitcases in peace. A tired dog is a good dog.

Meanwhile, the delivery man has left two parcels in the outbuilding. One is a young maple tree which must be planted when time and weather permits. The other is a green metal squirrel feeder.

Scotland has three quarters of the UK’s red squirrel population and, once again, I am making an effort to encourage these adorable creatures to my table.

They need all the help they can get. These animals were once so numerous that they were actually culled. In ancient times, when Scotland was mainly forested, it was said they could travel from one side of the country to the other without touching the ground.

Now the red is endangered – and not least because of competition from its grey cousin. Which is sad, for these endearing bushy-tailed mammals are woodland royalty. Their kingdom is the tops of high trees. Their playgrounds are the branches of awesome oaks and fantastic firs.

The red squirrel has an amazing grip and spring. It can leap several yards and is able to smell food from a great distance. We are looking forward to watching armies of them feast on the delicacies I plan to fill the feeder with.

The chief attaches the contraption to the tree outside the kitchen window. And now we wait. Not glued to the same spot, you understand – but if passing by the window, we may glance hopefully across the yard.

A friend arrives for coffee and while I am out of the room, a red comes down and helps itself to a handful of nuts. My friend lives in the city and it makes her day to see nature cute, close up and colourful. By the time I return it is gone.

Then, on day five, the chief is reading the newspaper and I am at the sink, hands in soapy water, when a tawny ball of fur scurries down the tree trunk and plonks itself on to the feeder. These are timid creatures and we hold our breath.

It bangs on the metal in frustration, then scurries off in disgust

Not a muscle is to be moved.

It is a small thing, probably a young one. And while it can see the nuts through the glass-fronted feeder, it cannot lift the lid. Perhaps we should have gone for a lightweight wooden feeder. It bangs on the metal in frustration, then scurries off in disgust.

Since then, not another has been spotted. But we live in hope – and remember the line from the film Field of Dreams: “If you build it, they will come…”

Fiona has made special efforts to try to help Scotland’s native red squirrels.