Tag Archives: squirrels
You should never be able to use the phrase "beefy forearms" when describing squirrels
This squirrel has actual rolls of fat. I’d swear he paused to rest before hauling his ponderous bulk up a tree the other day. I’m also certain he’s the one who rips my sunflowers down and then leaves them, half-eaten, on our front porch to taunt me.
Rodents.
"Several Pairs of Interesting Little Animals to Be Set Free Among the Trees"
Haven’t posted a squirrel story in a while, but today’s Washington Post Sunday Source comes to the rescue with “Critter City – A Century Ago, Squirrels Were Rare in D.C. How Did They Come to Rule the Capital?”
Don’t forget to read the sidebar “Eastern Gray Squirrels In a Nutshell”
The bitch is back
I’m sure this squirrel is still mad about being evicted from the attic. She has a distinctive tail, which isn’t quite visible in this photo, but trust me, it’s her.
After her penthouse door was sealed up (and we had our electrical main replaced because she’d eaten all the insulation off it), she spent months racing around on the outside of our house, looking in the windows and following me from room to room.
If I didn’t close the blinds, she’d bang on the windows with her little squirrel fists when she saw me. I’m sure she was giving me the finger with her creepy little squirrel hands.
She didn’t even have a nest up there, she was just partying. I’m surprised to she hasn’t found a way to pick the locks to get back in and set up house again. Yet.
For now, she just sits out there on the compost bin and stares at the house. She’s planning something, I can tell.
I’m quite certain squirrels harbor grudges. We probably should have had her relocated when they fixed the attic, but we didn’t think it was necessary.
Lesson learned.
What’s a girl to do?
Don’t you hate it when you start out writing a nice story about squirrels spreading some sort of viral zombie disease among a bunch of artists and you end up writing about terrorists wrecking a wedding? Eh, there could still be zombies. And, as Husband has suggested, maybe the only way to kill the genetically modified terrorist-controlled zombies is by raising the dead and sending traditional voodoo-inspired zombies to destroy them.
Husband has been practicing turning off his brain so we can resume our Galactica 1980 marathon, so I may not want to listen to him. Galactica 1980 is the perfect Writer’s Guild Strike viewing choice, because no writers were involved in the making of this show.