Evolution. Or, Why God Made Squirrels So Cute.

I like squirrels for the exact same reason that I’m about to declare a jihad on all the little buggers in the neighborhood.

The wife and I bought a bird feeder for the back yard. We have some cardinals that really brighten our day when they are about so we selfishly wish to deprive others of their beautiful plumage. I had little hope that the “squirrel proof” feeder would be of much use, but I had no idea of the shear audacity of these little buggers!

Various attack strategies were employed by the furry commandos. Aerial assaults, ground pounding, sneak attacks, pincers, half pincers, and Biological warfare* all failed in attaining the victory. That’s when the little <censored> got dirty.

One of the elite commandos figured out that by popping the upper spring off its joist, the entire rig was rendered useless and he’d have less trouble using brute force against the static defenses since he didn’t have to fight the spring as well. I’ve gone out there and re-attached it several times this week and have been meaning to try something to keep that from happening.

So today I look out back and see Captain Chitter abseil from an overhanging limb onto the rig. He gets to the post it’s on and, while balancing his body on the post, uses one hand to start shoveling stuff out of the feeder ports. It’s a tricky maneuver so he loses his balance and grabs on to the rig that responds by clamping shut. “Ok,” I say to myself, “I’ll need to address that too.” Out of some frustration I rap on the back door’s glass to get the little blighter to run off. It’s spiteful, but I’m feeling just tidge that sort.

Captain Chitter, hearing the rapping, looks at me, ascends to the top of the rig, looks at me again, AND SNAPS THE SPRING OFF ITS JOIST before diving for cover. Scorched Freaking Earth!

Oh, the audacity doesn’t end there!

I go outside with some wire to and make it harder for them to pop the spring until I can come up with something better. That little furry <censored> (pardon the alliteration) crawls out of the tree and parks his war criminal butt not 3 feet from me and stares at me. Not the taunting stare of an enemy, but the expectant stare of, “well, what took you so long? That thing is broken and we have to work our tails off to get to the food!”

When no food is proffered by me, he moves up a little closer and flirts his tail. “Perhaps you didn’t see me here? Food now would be nice.”

After a few more minutes and no food, he’s now about two feet from me. I’m a man of peace, but damned if that wasn’t hard not the stomp a foot at him. I finish the patch job and turn to acknowledge my foe. *flirt tail* *blink* *flirt tail*

So I guess I’m going to look into a squirrel feeder this weekend. *sigh*

*I think they pooped on it.
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Dante…

Conservative, educated, understands history, distrusts government, distrusts politicians, dislikes pop-culture, and carries a firearm. In short, I'm what The Framers of The Constitution were counting on and everything your government wants you to fear most.

The only thing I don’t have to complain about is some GI taking up space in my living room. I’ll let you know about the Civil Courts if someone ever owes more than $20 to me. ---If you didn’t get that one; sue your Civics or US History Teacher.


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