This is my friend, Mr Squeal. He's called that because our grandson, Dan, when tiny, couldn't say squirrel and it came out as squeal.
Mr Squeal is on the bird table. I can actually go outside and talk to him. He's not spoken to me yet but he listens to what I say to him, which is more than the LSO does on occasions.
I feel a bit guilty about Mr S because we've been away for a week and returned to find that the nuts and assorted food had run out. Just to compensate we've just put out some cooked rice and crumbled Digestive biscuits.