Incurable optimism

There he sits, quite the most handsome I've seen, a rare well-fed variety. His bushiest of tails follows the curve of his back - almost regal in demeanour.

He wants my sunflower hearts. Given the opportunity, he'd hoover them all up from the bird feeders, leaving the intended recipients none. But time and time again, one by one, he discovers they really are squirrel-proof.

Finds a windfall apple, picks it up, starts to munch, but moves on.

"Are my Bramleys too sour for you then, you wimp!" I call, knowing he'll be back to attempt the feeders again soon.