Some years back my uncle Alan Clay (used to work at St Georges long ago) lived in Tividale with a wood at the back of the garden. He took to putting a few nuts out for the squirrels, and eventually he could get them to come right up to him for a feed. It goes without saying he named them all
'Cyril.' (To avoid confusion.)
The living room faced out to the back, and
Cyril the Squirrel got so cheeky he would actually get onto the window sill and tap the window to get his grub. I was amazed when I first saw it, and Alan got up straight away to go out and feed him. It was clear to see who called the tune in that house.