This afternoon, I worked from my kitchen table, facing the deck and the deep woods beyond—wind chimes tinkling, birds flitting between feeders. Midway through my day, a small red-tailed juvenile squirrel appeared. Cute, I thought.
Then she leapt onto our high-top table and, after a few comical failures, managed to fling herself onto the bird feeder. I moved the table, thinking I had outsmarted her by cutting off her runway.
That worked for about a minute.
I watched, half amused and half amazed, as she attempted to scale the side of the house—smooth siding, slippery windows, impossible angles. Surely she’d give up. But not this determined little creature.
After multiple failed attempts, she devised an ingenious route: scaling the house, leaping to a wind chime, inching along the outdoor light wire, and shimmying down the chain to the feeder.
I admired her determination and creativity. But I also knew I had purchased a squirrel-proof feeder—the kind that closes off the seed supply when something heavier than a bird lands on it. So despite her daring high-wire act, her persistence yielded no reward.
And still, she returned. Again and again. Relentlessly.
Persistence personified. Yet, no payoff.
As I watched, admiration turned to reflection. How often have I been that squirrel? Working tirelessly toward a goal—overcoming obstacles, innovating new approaches, taking risks, trying again and again until exhaustion sets in—only to find the result hollow, the door locked, or the reward not worth the effort?
When does persistence become pig-headedness? When does grit turn into futility?
I could count many such times. But just as many when persistence did pay off—when I pushed through, prevailed, and felt proud of my tenacity. Those moments of triumph were hard-won, and the struggle made the success all the sweeter.
Still, I wonder: how do we discern which goals are worth that level of effort? How do we know whether the feeder is full—or sealed shut?
As I pondered, I stepped outside to shoo my little red-tailed friend back toward the woods. There, the ground was covered with freshly fallen acorns—easy pickings and abundant food for any squirrel wise enough to notice. Yet she had spent her entire afternoon chasing the promise of a few sunflower seeds.
Once again, I saw the parallel. How often do I overlook the abundance around me because I’m fixated on something just out of reach? How often do I assume that only the hard path leads to what I want, when ease might be waiting nearby?
As the squirrel darted away, the birds returned to the feeder—wrens, cardinals, finches, and a titmouse or two—lightly perching, feeding freely, as designed.
And I wondered: what if life could be like that? What if what I seek is already in front of me—available, effortless, and meant to flow rather than be forced?
Below are a few “tells” on when I’m being “pig-headed” and when I should continue to persist;
Signs that you are being pig-headed:
- The goal is no longer enticing, yet you are going to finish no matter what.
- You continue on only because you want to “save face” or worry about what others might say if you quit.
- You’ve lost all energy for the work and are not certain you’ll regain it.
- The external environment has changed, and your original goal needs to be rethought.
Signs that you should persist:
- The goal is still a worthy one, even if it’s harder than you thought.
- You see progress, even though it’s slower than you anticipated.
- You see progress on what you’ve learned to date, you are smarter and can see the path forward.
- You’ve reevaluated your priorities, and this is still “on your list”.
Perhaps that’s the lesson from my tenacious little teacher:
To persist, yes—but not to push blindly. To recognize when your efforts have become pigheaded, and to know that no matter how long you stare in the mirror and add lipstick to that pig, perspective cannot change the realities of your situation. To trust that sometimes, ease is a sign we’re aligned. And that the seeds meant for us will not require a squirrel’s acrobatics to reach. To understand that it is normal for priorities to shift, for discovery to change your mind, and for your heart to find new direction. To leave the familiar struggle, your squirrel-proof feeder, in search of seeds more fitting to your present reality and more aligned to the future you hope your effort materializes.
Reflection Questions
- Where in your life are you working tirelessly toward a goal that may not be yielding results?
- How do you discern the difference between persistence and stubbornness?
- What “squirrel-proof feeders” might you be chasing—situations that look promising but are not designed to reward your effort?
- What abundance or opportunity might already be available to you if you shifted your focus?
- What would it look like to trust that ease and flow can coexist with meaningful achievement?
How about you? What do you do when something is harder than you thought? What have you learned about the value of persistence and the folly of being pig-headed?
