My friend Julie has been posting some amazing pictures of baby bunnies in her garden. Maybe this lockdown has caused us to look out our windows or into the depths of our own backyards to divert us from all the ugly in life.
I’ve been watching the squirrels who have just recently discovered a way into our bird feeders. One of them is particularly agile. He’s found a way to balance from the shepherd hook to the feeder and empty the seeds to the ground for all his buddies to enjoy, while he takes in several of his own.
I remembered trying different remedies in the past, like greasing the pole with Pam. It was fun watching the squirrels almost reach the top only to slide down. OK, so I’m easily amused.
I also recalled a time about 30 years ago, when I was getting extra perturbed with these little squirrel thieves invading our feeder. In doing so, they were costing us a fortune in bird seed and discouraging the birds from enjoying their meal.
I’m really not a violent person and I don’t hunt or have never used a firearm, but this event really got my dander up. Paul had a pellet gun in the bedroom closet. I retrieved it, read the instructions on the box, loaded it and readied myself for battle. One squirrel was noticeably brazen in his attempts, so I aimed the gun and was ready to fire, when my finger got caught in the spring mechanism and pinched it into a nice little blood blister.
I went forward. I stayed the course. I tried again. The squirrel was stunned. His arms reached out as he apparently took his last breath. He then made a very dramatic swan dive and fell to the ground. I was devastated. I’d never killed a living thing outside of an ant or two. Guilt began to consume me. I thought I might be able to revive the poor thing and as I neared his lifeless body, he suddenly came back to life and ran into the woods. My guilt left me like a cat out of you know where.
That night, as I tried to get to sleep, thoughts of attempting to kill that little critter entered my brain. I fell into a deep sleep only to come up with a doozy of a dream. There I sat, on top of the bird feeder with my hands and feet bound. Below me were hundreds of little squirrels surrounding me with pellet guns. Divine retribution, I guess.