Piglet was, if my memory serves me right, very keen on haycorns but this isnt a view I share.
There we were, moored under an ancient oak tree near the Fox and Anchor at Coven when, every now and again in the dead of night, a loud 'boing' sounded from the steel roof. If that wasnt bad enough, as dawn broke and we huddled down under the duvet, the irregular 'boings' were replaced by a clatter clatter of woody fragments showering down on us, plus the occasional proper 'boing'.
What on earth is it asked Belle? "Hmm, ripe haycorns on an oak tree in autumn... I suspect a friendly squirrel is having a spot of breakfast" I replied.
And so it was. When we emerged a couple of hours later the whole roof was covered in acorn litter; leaves, bits of kernel and assorted cups.
Whilst is was one of those scurrolous Americal grey squirrels and not one of our 'proper' English red ones, they were quite sweet to watch, nibbling away at their breakfast high up in the branches.