The squirrels around here have been acting...well, squirrely.
Which is probably better than acting fishy...at least for
the squirrels.
I guess it’s that time of year when squirrels figure the
days are running short where it comes to completing all their pre-winter chores before
the NFL season starts getting serious.
So they’re running around the yard...this way and
that...gathering nuts, burying nuts and digging up the same nuts they just
buried.
Nutty, huh.
I’ve had my issues with squirrels in the past and even
employed my own personal squirrel whisperer to “reason” with them.
But, since then, I’ve come to terms with the fact that
squirrels will be squirrels and all those small little holes in my lawn are
just the price of doing business in suburbia.
Hey, I’m sure the squirrels aren’t all that crazy about my
sitting out on the deck all summer, late into the evenings, watching reruns of “Californication ”,
either.
I mean, that show can get a little raunchy at times—most
times—and it tends to disrupt the squirrel’s beauty sleep since they can’t help
but watch from the trees.
Squirrels...they thought I didn’t notice all those wide eyes
and heavy breathing coming from above.
So now they’re outside getting ready for the long winter ahead
by running willy nilly from here to there and back again.
Which annoys Willy, but not as much as it does Nilly.
Anyway, as Z so often reminds me: “What do you expect from a
creature with a brain the size of a walnut?”...which gives me pause because Z
often refers to me as peanut brain.
Needless to say, I resent that disparaging characterization
since I consider myself to be more of a pistachio brain, if anything.
I did come across one interesting fact while doing my
squirrel research.
What...you think I make this stuff up?
All of it?
Yeah, well....
Squirrels live up to 15 years or more, which explains why
they’re so comfortable digging up my lawn, as if it were their own to mutilate...not
to mention why they get their mail delivered here.
But it’s not all fun and games. Long or not, life’s not always
easy for these little Sciuromorpha so
you should have a little sympathy. I
mean, how would you feel if you’ve been around the same group of people for 15
years and not one of them knows your name?
Like when I go to my in-laws on Christmas.
Okay...I know...that one was predictable.
You knew I’d say Christmas, didn’t you?
Anyway, the real problem squirrels have has more to do with
PR than anything else.
Fact is...there are just so many of them running around...who
can tell one from the other.
I mean does anyone ever get excited when a squirrel runs
across their lawn and scurries up a tree.
No, because they’re everywhere, and not particularly careful
about keeping a low profile.
But, if a little bunny rabbit wanders out from under the
bushes and starts nibbling on your flowers, you start pointing and hollering...
“Quick, come look at
the cute little bunny munching on my hydrangeas!”
And everyone drops what they’re doing, grabs their camera phones and immediately starts posting to Facebook.
“Just saw the cutest
bunny...what an amazing day!!!”
Imagine how that must make the squirrels feel.
Well, actually, they probably don’t feel anything, mostly because
of their walnut brains and the fact that they actually prefer Twitter over
Facebook.
Squirrels....
__________________________________________________
Available now at Amazon.com - Click Here
Like" the Retorts on Facebook
Or subscribe above to receive Retorts by E-Mail
I also saw some squirrel shenanigans on my walk this morning - it was a survival of the fittest kind of thing and will write about it later. I must deal with the robins which leave me POd bigtime ... my boss had a home fax, long ago, before clients at our law firm started just scanning in documents for review and passing the along in an e-mail. But back in the day, a fax machine for a labor lawyer to have access to and send out faxes 24/7 was a must. He had a squirrel in his yard that consistently chew on the fax line - he had AT&T out to replace the connection multiple times. Finally they consented to bury the d*mn thing. Needless to say, he didn't reach into his pocket and spend money to buy them peanuts. - Linda Schaub
ReplyDeletenow i'm going to have to find some vintage squirrel snapshots....
ReplyDelete