A murder of crows, that is.
To say nothing of the three colourful blue jays which flitter and scream, plus an errant starling and the happy but intent sparrows. The chickadees are de rigueur.
Mr. Squirrel thus has much to contend with. To be fair, the crows were there first - with more of them than any other morning. And then the blue jays (three) were present, where there had been before but one. Perhaps they knew it was Christmas and expected treats. They were all gathered early. And who am I to disappoint on Christmas morn (I even have the beard). So out I went, large bag o' peanuts in hand, and began to toss. This is when Mr. Squirrel finally appeared. One of the fun things about Mr. Squirrel is that he lets (perhaps encourages) you to throw peanuts right at him. Which I do. They are close enough for him to pick up and scurry them away.
Mr. Squirrel has his work cut out for him and much scurrying to do. Between the crows and the blue jays, he has a right old time of racing about and earns his peanuts tenfold. Even with a peanut in his own mouth he will give chase to the crows, making them squawk and hop into the air. The blue jays don't even let him get close. The starling, sparrows and chickadees are intent upon the bird feeders and watch these antics with bemusement. And I contemplate attempting to bop a crow with a peanut.