Oh, my word--A shower of earwigs yields a shower of responses. I worry that I will have to search out similar content-rich and horrifying experiences to keep the amusement level high...In the meantime, content-wise:
1. Yuck.
And similar words. An excellent response. I am not yet over the twitchies. Really.
2. Techniques for keeping birds away. Thank you. These include:
Nets: Readily available, effective. I am on the verge of buying some today. But I have a neurotic fear of birds becoming entangled. Instead of running out every five minutes to frighten birds and gather the latest ripe berry, I will be running out every five minutes to make sure the birds are OK, and then gather the latest ripe berry. But I will have more berries. And the same amount of exercise. Win-win. And yet another source of active anxiety. Maybe not win-win.
Framework on which gauzy, sun- and rain-permeable material is draped: Now this is a truly elegant, worry-free solution. Not to mention the added delight of a ghostly form wavering in the garden at night--because that bush is 7 feet tall and would make a terrific ghost. Win-win. Unfortunately, sometime last week, the seasons changed. Do not pay any attention to the spring/summer/fall/winter divisions. The big division this time of year is from "I Can Weed This Year and Really Have a Garden and Might Even Buy a Few Plants and If I Start Now, I Won't Be Overwhelmed Later" (maybe they call it spring because spring is easier to say) to "It's Hot and I'm Tired and I Hate Sun and Looking at the Garden Makes Me Depressed" (once again, maybe why "summer" instead). Building an elegant structure is something one can only do in--for short--spring. My seasons have rules. Lose (self-respect)-lose (berries).
Giant eyeballs: My favorite idea, from a local farm (they did not write to me, I just saw this). Very tall slim poles from each of which bobs a balloon that looks like a giant eyeball. If your eyes are bright yellow, with red irids and black pupils. The above two are probably more effective. But giant eyeballs. Also I don't know where to get them. (Irids--just been reading Jane Eyre again, in which you will find that word.)
3. Techniques for keeping squirrels away.
I have to say, I resent the accusation (you know who you are) that I am speciesist in my hostility to squirrels and small mammals in general. As I believe I mentioned in the previous, I am now running out and yelling and flapping my arms at robins and catbirds. There are not mammals. And also I flap year round and with far more hostility at starlings (invasive species, so deserving of hostility), house sparrows (ditto), and mourning doves (cute but dumb and greedy; will actually sit in the seeds they can't eat). These are also not mammals. My especial hostility to squirrels is probably based on my especial love for crows (they get whole peanuts. It's probably unfair to ask squirrels to stay away. But I do). As for mammals, I would be thrilled if my yard filled nightly with skunks and opossums:
They are adorable.
They are nocturnal, so no competition with birds.
They trundle. An endearing from of locomotion.
They are not tall, so though they will eat berries, damage is limited. They do not climb.*
Skunks eat grubs, and they are welcome to the compost. Opossums eat ticks--many, many, many ticks--as well as slugs and mice, also enemies.
Opossums are marsupials (coolness factor).
Skunks make good pets.
And come on, you have to admit that even if speciesist, the slinky thing is the coolest.
*I’m not ill-informed—opossums climb. But artistic license says they don’t.