When autumns dons its coat of many colors, I can’t help but think back to this funny story from many years ago. You have probably read it before, but it stirs all kinds of memories for me. It was a series of firsts for me. Squirrels and bird feeders are a normal sight at this time of the year. The furry little critters are extremely busy gathering food for future consumption. They forage for acorns, crush through the hard shells of black walnuts and might get lucky and find a peanut or two laying around. When they’re extremely desperate, they hit the bird feeders. Thus began my story.

Every day I would venture out to fill those feeders to draw in a variety of birds. There’s something about watching God’s creatures within their natural habitat. I grew to enjoy their colors, their determination, their stick-to-it abilities. What I wasn’t ready for was a plethora of grey squirrels who had the same perseverance. They would climb up the post and invade the feeders, throwing seed all over the place for their buddies to enjoy from a safer vantage point. The main squirrel would go through all kinds of acrobatics to reach his destination. It was a bit comical to watch him scoot up that pole. I tried to think of ways to deter him. I even greased the pole to avoid any further nuisance. It worked for a while, until all their sliding eventually wore away the slipperiness. We bought one of those baffles intended to keep squirrels from reaching their goal, but they always seemed to figure out a way to bypass it. After weeks of frustration, I finally decided to take more serious action. I found my husband’s pellet gun and took aim. I’d never fired a gun of any kind in my life. This particular weapon was intended to stun, not to kill. In the process, my finger got pinched at least once while trying to fire it. When I finally figured out how to operate the thing, I was at a point of no return. I took aim – pulled the trigger with my blood blistered finger and shot.

It was the most dramatic deaths I’ve ever seen. No Shakespearean play – no cowboys falling off the roof after being shot – no falling off a skyscraper could possibly compare. He raised his front feet in the air, tilted his head back and opened his mouth to take his final breath. He then fell to the ground with a great thud. I was devastated. I’d taken the life of one of God’s creatures. Thoughts of my guilt plagued me for about two minutes, when he quickly came back to life and scurried into the woods. I put the gun away never to use it again. That night, as I lay in my bed replaying the whole scenario, I fell into a deep sleep. My dreams began to haunt me. There I was, sitting on top of the bird feeder, surrounded by a circle of squirrels with pellet guns. They were all shooting at me!