Attack of the mangy squirrels

Since I may have nothing to do for the next month but work like a maniac and pop The Pill, I thought I'd procrastinate the many important and pressing things that need doing by sharing with you my Deep Squirrel Thoughts.

I have been thinking about Pixi's post and I guess squirrels are the closest thing to a symbol that I have. Unfortunately, not a hopeful or benevolent symbol. Not exactly malevolent either, just something that pops up and keeps gnawing away, an annoying, worrysome, in-the-back-of-the-mind thing to fear. Physically small and seemingly insignificant, but with huge damage potential. Kind of like those little biological hiccups that have cost most of us our fertility.

Any midwestern kid is used to seeing squirrels in all weather. It's weird, they're just as gross and destructive as rats, they chew into garbage cans and eat the food for the pretty birds but we still think squirrels are cute and cuddly. We get super excited when we see the rare all-black squirrels. Must be the puffy tails. More proof that humans have fucked-up wiring, and that appearances are more effective than actions.

(When a squirrel sits on a tree and bobs his tail up and down, is he pooping? What does squirrel poop look like? Do they poop on the run, like rabbits, or at rest, like birds? What does it mean when a squirrel lays spreadeagle on the pavement and makes that "chreeeeeng" noise? Does he have the mange? Is it eating his brain? Is he on the verge of death? Is it a sexy mating invitation?)

My parents had a squirrel infestation a few years back. Nothing seemed to work; they trimmed back all the trees near the house to keep them away, only to watch squirrels dance the tightrope of the electric lines, and carry on with the chewing. They chewed holes in the soffits. Then a giant hole right in the side of the house. They were having parties in the vacant spaces between house and outside. They were loudest in my old bedroom, right underneath the window where I got caught smoking one year (Duh, if you're going to smoke in your parents' house, don't wear your headphones so you can't hear them knocking on your door. And go all the way out onto the roof, don't just blow smoke out the window. Idiot.) My dyed-in-the-wool Democrat dad went to a south suburban WalMart, the loathed and hated WalMart, to buy a pellet gun. He and my younger brother would lie in wait, room darkened, window cracked, and barrel ever so slightly poking out, for hours, waiting for a good squirrel shot. What must the neighbors have thought. The city has a strict no-firearms ordinance. How they weren't arrested I'll never know.

In the end, it took peanut butter crackers, traps, drowning in a barrel, and a $20,000 reroofing job to completely vanquish the squirrels.

I've given up trying to grow tomatoes. For the last two summers, the squirrels have eaten every goddamn one. I stopped counting the mornings I would pass the garden on the way to the garage, and catch a squirrel or two, frozen and pretending to be invisible, perched on top of my tomato frames. Leering over the pathetically small, mostly green tomatoes. The heirloom tomato plants that I had planted in January and tended under grow-lights until it was warm enough to put them outside. The squirrels managed to leave the green ones just long enough for me to get really hopeful, but they would snatch them the day they started getting the pink blush. Last year was particularly heartbreaking; it was a record dry summer here and getting anything to produce took almost constant watering.

You can see where I'm going with this (rather tired) metaphor. I feel like the little clot of squirrels in my gut is becoming an army. I've got mutherfucker squirrel and antiphospholipid squirrel in there now. They're the definition of running amuck. My sad little barfly ovary tomatoes are wheezing out their last gasp, and I don't know if any amount of tender watering and gonal-fertilizing are going to amount to a good goddamn. What I wouldn't give for a barrel of water to drown them in. Or a pellet gun. Fuckers.

Comments

[fisher queen]

Wouldn't it be nice if a $20,000.00 IVF were guaranteed to do the job? I love your analogy! Whenever one of us is presented with something unpleasant, but unavoidable, like "it's your turn to take out the recycling" hub and I make that "chreeeeing" noise. Yes we are totally weird. We got it from a squirrel who used to yell at us any time we walked under his tree.

[Spanglish]

The poop looks like raisins, but I don't know if they do it at rest or on the run.

When you're finished with the gun, hand it over here please. Thanks.

[Donna]

Nice analogy, I think its perfect. We have a ton of squirrels at our place too, but I think the bluejays scare them out of doing anything really destructive. I hope you find your blue jay soon.

[DD]

Well said. So well said in fact that I can add nothing more to make the point any clearer or closer to home.

[April]

This was a wonderful analogy.

I woke up to fifteen squirrels in my front yard this morning. FIFTEEN.

[Lori]

So that's what's been squirming around down there! Squirrels - the bastards. Had one chew threw my ceiling in my first apartment. Hate the little buggers.

[P.]

Thanks for stopping by this weekend. I just started reading your blog and can't wait to catch up!

[alfa]

meu site... queria que avaliassem e dessem opinioes!

[Sandra]

Juvenile delinquents should be sentenced to bootcamp