Chronicle: Le Morte De Vermin
Moderator: Ghost
Thanks.
BTW - in case it wasn't already painfully obvious, the title of the piece is a playful take on Mallory's seminal Arthurian masterpiece "Le Morte De Arthur" (The Death of Arthur) ... which was also a sideways poke at Kilty's "20 questions thread" in which people were trying to guess the latin title of a book he's planning to write someday
BTW - in case it wasn't already painfully obvious, the title of the piece is a playful take on Mallory's seminal Arthurian masterpiece "Le Morte De Arthur" (The Death of Arthur) ... which was also a sideways poke at Kilty's "20 questions thread" in which people were trying to guess the latin title of a book he's planning to write someday
ΦBK — Greek initials of the motto "Love of learning is the guide of life."
Ok, Spring has officially sprung, so it'd be best not to expect any more posts from me until early next winter.
I'll leave the thread unlocked, incase anyone feels compelled to add anything ... even if only to share a good belly laugh at my expense.
I'll leave the thread unlocked, incase anyone feels compelled to add anything ... even if only to share a good belly laugh at my expense.
ΦBK — Greek initials of the motto "Love of learning is the guide of life."
Brad
I found way to dispose of the evidence -
First, skin your squirrel...
Philosopher and farmer Roger Scruton explains why the best way to dispose of many country pests is simply to eat them . . .
http://books.guardian.co.uk/extracts/st ... 83,00.html
I found way to dispose of the evidence -
First, skin your squirrel...
Philosopher and farmer Roger Scruton explains why the best way to dispose of many country pests is simply to eat them . . .
http://books.guardian.co.uk/extracts/st ... 83,00.html
If ye love wealth better than liberty, the tranquility of servitude than the animating contest of freedom, go from us in peace. We ask not your counsels or arms. Crouch down and lick the hands which feed you. May your chains sit lightly upon you,
S Adams
S Adams
Yes, I've seen similar articles. In fact, I vaguely recall we already discussed it over in the "Extreme Cuisine" thread in the Tap Room area.
I opted not to cook "Jill" because my beloved and kindhearted wife would probably die of horror ... also, it would have been a rough segue after having penned that eulogy-type post I made about her last moments.
I opted not to cook "Jill" because my beloved and kindhearted wife would probably die of horror ... also, it would have been a rough segue after having penned that eulogy-type post I made about her last moments.
Le Morte De Vermin, Part 16 (May 29th ?)
Just before making brunch for my parents, I wandered out to the back yard to harvest some wild onions/chives from the yard. While walking past the garden, I discovered evidence of a recent, dastardly raid ... nearly all of the parsley I’d planted previously had been neatly nibbled off to the ground, with only the occasional stray leaf and stem still visible.
Just like my ancestors might have, in the depths of time, I squatted and looked for clues, like a hunter stalking prey. The stems were freshly nibbled ... no more than a few hours ago. There were also a few tracks here and there in the soft soil, and suddenly my enemy’s image took shape in my mind. He was ancient and venerated - often hunted for food, revered as a totem spirit, and in some cases worshipped as a symbol of fertility. In Gaelic, his name is “Coineanachâ€
Just before making brunch for my parents, I wandered out to the back yard to harvest some wild onions/chives from the yard. While walking past the garden, I discovered evidence of a recent, dastardly raid ... nearly all of the parsley I’d planted previously had been neatly nibbled off to the ground, with only the occasional stray leaf and stem still visible.
Just like my ancestors might have, in the depths of time, I squatted and looked for clues, like a hunter stalking prey. The stems were freshly nibbled ... no more than a few hours ago. There were also a few tracks here and there in the soft soil, and suddenly my enemy’s image took shape in my mind. He was ancient and venerated - often hunted for food, revered as a totem spirit, and in some cases worshipped as a symbol of fertility. In Gaelic, his name is “Coineanachâ€
Le Morte De Vermin, Part 21 (Aug 8th)
SNEAK ATTACK !
The rabbits launched a dastardly counterattack today. I arrived at my parent's house to make brunch, and when I went out to the garden to gather herbs, along with the current week's crop of tomatoes, I found that ALL of the ripe tomatoes (about 12 in all) had been gnawed to ribbons. My parents were incensed when I told them.
Now, I'd earlier spotted a rabbit nosing around in the hedges when I pulled up in my car, and didn't think much of it - after all, there was now enough parsley for an entire army of rabbits to live on ... and they were welcome to it with my blessings.
HOWEVER, my beloved summer tomatoes were specifically off limits, and their poaching of them was tantamount to a declaration of war. No quarter shall be asked or given, for this battle is to the death. No, cancel that ... this time, not even death shall be stern enough punishment, for I fully intend to COOK and DEVOUR my prey after catching him (or her).
I already have the menu planned:
APPETIZER: Garlic Bruschetta with Salsa of Garden Tomatoes and Fresh Basil.
ENTREE: Rabbit Ficassee, stewed with L.I. white wine and fresh garden herbs.
DESSERT: Rhubarb Pie (made with homegrown rhubarb), served with homemade Chokecherry Mead
Hey, when life assaults you with vermin, make vermin stew.
Stay tuned.
SNEAK ATTACK !
The rabbits launched a dastardly counterattack today. I arrived at my parent's house to make brunch, and when I went out to the garden to gather herbs, along with the current week's crop of tomatoes, I found that ALL of the ripe tomatoes (about 12 in all) had been gnawed to ribbons. My parents were incensed when I told them.
Now, I'd earlier spotted a rabbit nosing around in the hedges when I pulled up in my car, and didn't think much of it - after all, there was now enough parsley for an entire army of rabbits to live on ... and they were welcome to it with my blessings.
HOWEVER, my beloved summer tomatoes were specifically off limits, and their poaching of them was tantamount to a declaration of war. No quarter shall be asked or given, for this battle is to the death. No, cancel that ... this time, not even death shall be stern enough punishment, for I fully intend to COOK and DEVOUR my prey after catching him (or her).
I already have the menu planned:
APPETIZER: Garlic Bruschetta with Salsa of Garden Tomatoes and Fresh Basil.
ENTREE: Rabbit Ficassee, stewed with L.I. white wine and fresh garden herbs.
DESSERT: Rhubarb Pie (made with homegrown rhubarb), served with homemade Chokecherry Mead
Hey, when life assaults you with vermin, make vermin stew.
Stay tuned.
Last edited by Darb on Mon Sep 21, 2009 9:56 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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laurie
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Brad - Can I hire you for a hit job? There's this blue jay, and a couple of mourning doves (glorified pigeons, I sez) I'd like to see whacked. They are worse than an alarm clock at dawn.....
You can keep the carcasses if you want - squab, anyone?
Living in a semi-rural area, we're used to odd animals wandering through the yard - lots of squirrels, chipmonks, and rabbits, a few garter snakes and skunks, even deer sometimes. But the summer I was 15, our township decided to connect our road to the main sewer line, and they dug a trench along the road, plus trenches to each house. Two days after the pipes were put in along the road (but before the house pipes were laid), my mother saw a RAT run up our driveway and into the garage. It was the only time in my life I heard my mother swear
Dad set a few traps in the garage but the rat was either too smart or was finding better food elsewhere - it never touched the bait. My brother (age 13) staked out the garage with his BB gun, but never saw the rat.
Mom and I refused to go into the garage, making Dad drive the car out whenever we went anywhere. About a week later, Dad was working on the lawnmower when he saw the rat running along the back wall of the garage. The rat dove into the hole of one of the cinder-blocks (foundation of garage). Dad grabbed a crowbar and stabbed the pointed end into the hole, and finally got the bugger. Then he mixed up a batch of quick-cement and poured it into the hole until it was full.
Me, being a budding historian, painted "Rat - 7/14/71" on the side of the cinder-block. It's still there.
You can keep the carcasses if you want - squab, anyone?
Living in a semi-rural area, we're used to odd animals wandering through the yard - lots of squirrels, chipmonks, and rabbits, a few garter snakes and skunks, even deer sometimes. But the summer I was 15, our township decided to connect our road to the main sewer line, and they dug a trench along the road, plus trenches to each house. Two days after the pipes were put in along the road (but before the house pipes were laid), my mother saw a RAT run up our driveway and into the garage. It was the only time in my life I heard my mother swear
Dad set a few traps in the garage but the rat was either too smart or was finding better food elsewhere - it never touched the bait. My brother (age 13) staked out the garage with his BB gun, but never saw the rat.
Mom and I refused to go into the garage, making Dad drive the car out whenever we went anywhere. About a week later, Dad was working on the lawnmower when he saw the rat running along the back wall of the garage. The rat dove into the hole of one of the cinder-blocks (foundation of garage). Dad grabbed a crowbar and stabbed the pointed end into the hole, and finally got the bugger. Then he mixed up a batch of quick-cement and poured it into the hole until it was full.
Me, being a budding historian, painted "Rat - 7/14/71" on the side of the cinder-block. It's still there.
"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife." -- Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
"So where the hell is he?" -- Laurie
"So where the hell is he?" -- Laurie
A fitting epitagh 
I'll pass on the birds, even though I enjoy marinated and grilled squab.
It's perhaps anti-climactic to admit this, but I'm actually a closet environmentalist and naturalist at heart ... I only intervene (exterminate) when animals become persistently destructive towards my personal property and/or projects, and I'm only chronicling it here for literary amusement.
Say, have you read the whole thread to date ? It's a little dry in places, but in some of the other posts I put a fair amount of effort into making them good reading.
I'll pass on the birds, even though I enjoy marinated and grilled squab.
It's perhaps anti-climactic to admit this, but I'm actually a closet environmentalist and naturalist at heart ... I only intervene (exterminate) when animals become persistently destructive towards my personal property and/or projects, and I'm only chronicling it here for literary amusement.
Say, have you read the whole thread to date ? It's a little dry in places, but in some of the other posts I put a fair amount of effort into making them good reading.
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wolfspirit
- MST3K
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Anyone good with deer traps?
We've got about 1000 too many in our area. 6000 houses in the last 5 years don't help either.
It's bad when you have to have 6 foot tall gates fences around all of you flowers and plants, just to keep them from being eaten.
And even then I can't save all of the daylilies....
Damn Deer. Deer are oversized rats and I wish the county would realize that and let us get rid of the buggers.
magicfan241, ranting becaus the deer touched one of his purple bell pepper plants
We've got about 1000 too many in our area. 6000 houses in the last 5 years don't help either.
It's bad when you have to have 6 foot tall gates fences around all of you flowers and plants, just to keep them from being eaten.
And even then I can't save all of the daylilies....
Damn Deer. Deer are oversized rats and I wish the county would realize that and let us get rid of the buggers.
magicfan241, ranting becaus the deer touched one of his purple bell pepper plants
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laurie
- Spelling Mistress
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- Joined: Sat Jul 17, 2004 2:52 am
- Location: The part of New York where "flurries" means 2 feet of snow to shovel
Yes, I read the whole thing. When you finally finish the saga, you should polish it up and submit it somewhere. [but not "Tree-Huggers Journal"]Brad_H wrote: Say, have you read the whole thread to date ? It's a little dry in places, but in some of the other posts I put a fair amount of effort into making them good reading.
It's truly hilarious, and almost everyone can relate to your frustration
Funny coincidence: I woke up today to the lovely fragrance Eau de Skunk drifting through my open window. The critter sprayed the deck for some reason, forcing me to forgo my tea and toast al fresco. Luckily it rained later, so most - but not all - of the stink is gone.
/me switches to political-action mode:
Magicfan - if the deer are a real problem, write up a complaint detailing the destruction they cause and get as many residents as possible to sign it, then take it to your township or county offices. Many localities are changing their laws regarding deer because of the outbreaks of Lyme Disease (spread by deer ticks) around the country. You might be able to prod them into some sort of action if enough people complain about the problem. If not, at least you TRIED.
"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife." -- Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
"So where the hell is he?" -- Laurie
"So where the hell is he?" -- Laurie
Le Morte De Vermin, Part 22 (Aug 22nd)
UNHOLY ALLIANCE !
This morning, my erstwhile enemies, the squirrels, have apparently joined forces with the militia of (the late) Hugh Bastard Bunny. They planted 3 abandoned squirrel pups where my other brother could find them, and he subsequently adopted them and has been nursing them in his own home. 
My campaign to win the "hearts and minds" of my family, previously highly successful, has now been undercut by my enemies' use of classic psychological warfare tactics. I have little doubt that Murphy's Ghost has had a hand in these tactics as well.
Their sheer cunning and willingness to win at all costs boggles the mind. To think that one of their own would be willing to deliberately abandon their newborn children in order to subborn my own brother - such fanaticism is truly frightening.
I must try to remain strong and resolute ... no matter that all hands are raised against me.
UNHOLY ALLIANCE !
This morning, my erstwhile enemies, the squirrels, have apparently joined forces with the militia of (the late) Hugh Bastard Bunny. They planted 3 abandoned squirrel pups where my other brother could find them, and he subsequently adopted them and has been nursing them in his own home.
My campaign to win the "hearts and minds" of my family, previously highly successful, has now been undercut by my enemies' use of classic psychological warfare tactics. I have little doubt that Murphy's Ghost has had a hand in these tactics as well.
Their sheer cunning and willingness to win at all costs boggles the mind. To think that one of their own would be willing to deliberately abandon their newborn children in order to subborn my own brother - such fanaticism is truly frightening.
I must try to remain strong and resolute ... no matter that all hands are raised against me.
Le Morte De Vermin, Part 23 (Sept 11th)
ARMISTICE DAY w/THE SQUIRRELS
At my 3rd annual BBQ, marking Sept 11th, one of my older brothers (see post 22), brought with him the baby squirrel pups he's been nursing. One of them had died of it's injuries since my last entry, but the 2 remaining pups were strong and healthy ... and being fed every 6 hours with high-calorie puppydog milk-replacement formula, via eye-dropper has been doing them wonders.
They were just so damn cute, nursing away at the eyedropper, in the palm of his hand. It was cause for a moment of soul searching on my part.
A few months ago (I'm not sure if I remembered to mention it), the hole they'd cut into our roof was finally patched ... so, it appears we've successfully evicted the enemy from our house. I'd also inflicted 50% casualties on the enemy, during the early stages of this war. Now, curled up before me, lay 2 helpless babes of the enemy, nursing milk from my own brother's hand ... on the 3rd anniversary of Sept 11th.
Although I have not yet decided what to do about the rabbits that continue to raid my parent's garden, I have decided to give peace (with the squirrels) a chance in my own home.
I stared in to the baby squirrel's eyes (I've been informed that their names are "Squiggy" and "Digger"), and mentally offered the following truce: if they, and their bretheren, agree to respect my territorial sovereignty (i.e., stay out of my attic), I'll leave them in peace. The squirrels continued nursing, and gave no answer, but I'll give them the benefit of the doubt.
Murphy's Ghost, who as usual was lounging nearby (after having screwed up my seafood and sausage orders earlier in the day) smirked at me, in his usual cryptic way.
With any luck, the peace will hold.
I'll know better this fall, when nut gathering and den-digging begins in ernest.
- Peace.
p.s. The squirrel pups are scheduled to be turned over to a licensed squirrel 'rehabilitator' in about 2 weeks, who will take over their care, and then release them into a carefully chosen park or animal sanctuary.
ARMISTICE DAY w/THE SQUIRRELS
At my 3rd annual BBQ, marking Sept 11th, one of my older brothers (see post 22), brought with him the baby squirrel pups he's been nursing. One of them had died of it's injuries since my last entry, but the 2 remaining pups were strong and healthy ... and being fed every 6 hours with high-calorie puppydog milk-replacement formula, via eye-dropper has been doing them wonders.
They were just so damn cute, nursing away at the eyedropper, in the palm of his hand. It was cause for a moment of soul searching on my part.
A few months ago (I'm not sure if I remembered to mention it), the hole they'd cut into our roof was finally patched ... so, it appears we've successfully evicted the enemy from our house. I'd also inflicted 50% casualties on the enemy, during the early stages of this war. Now, curled up before me, lay 2 helpless babes of the enemy, nursing milk from my own brother's hand ... on the 3rd anniversary of Sept 11th.
Although I have not yet decided what to do about the rabbits that continue to raid my parent's garden, I have decided to give peace (with the squirrels) a chance in my own home.
I stared in to the baby squirrel's eyes (I've been informed that their names are "Squiggy" and "Digger"), and mentally offered the following truce: if they, and their bretheren, agree to respect my territorial sovereignty (i.e., stay out of my attic), I'll leave them in peace. The squirrels continued nursing, and gave no answer, but I'll give them the benefit of the doubt.
Murphy's Ghost, who as usual was lounging nearby (after having screwed up my seafood and sausage orders earlier in the day) smirked at me, in his usual cryptic way.
With any luck, the peace will hold.
I'll know better this fall, when nut gathering and den-digging begins in ernest.
- Peace.
p.s. The squirrel pups are scheduled to be turned over to a licensed squirrel 'rehabilitator' in about 2 weeks, who will take over their care, and then release them into a carefully chosen park or animal sanctuary.
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bob k. mando
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just thought this would be an appropriate place to link in an incredibly funny 'squirrel infestation/sex' story:
http://episteme.arstechnica.com/eve/ubb ... 8006139631
now with illustrations!
http://episteme.arstechnica.com/eve/ubb ... 8006139631
now with illustrations!
Words of wisdom about hippies from Neil Young circa 1970:
"Soldiers are gunning us down,
Should have been done long ago."
"Soldiers are gunning us down,
Should have been done long ago."
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bob k. mando
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cho
i don't have posting priviledges in the Ars lounge either (that's part of the pay portion of the Ars board) but the mothballs / ammonia suggestion has already been made + at least one of the squirrels in question has already been pwned! so these good people should be fine...
i don't have posting priviledges in the Ars lounge either (that's part of the pay portion of the Ars board) but the mothballs / ammonia suggestion has already been made + at least one of the squirrels in question has already been pwned! so these good people should be fine...
Words of wisdom about hippies from Neil Young circa 1970:
"Soldiers are gunning us down,
Should have been done long ago."
"Soldiers are gunning us down,
Should have been done long ago."
Le Morte De Vermin, Part 24 (June 2nd, 2006)
TRUCE BROKEN !
After a year's peace, the kinfolk of the late Hugh Bastard Bunny have violated the terms of the armistice, by clear-gnawing my newly planted parsley all the way to ground level. Bastards !
I know it was the ilk of HBB that was responsble, because one of their scouts intercepted me on my way to the garden, and stared me straight in the eye, bold as can be, from a distance of 5 feet. The Nerve !
I opened the latest round of hostilities with a volley of loud curses, and shooed the enemy across the street towards the neighbor's yard. This promptly drew the attention of my kind-hearted older brother, who (as mentioned in Parts 22 & 23), had previously switched sides and turned traitor by siding with fur-covered legions.
He mentioned that he heard of the existence of non-toxic repellants, and suggested I buy fencing to protect the parsley. I politely retorted that rabbits are burrowing creatures, and that any rabbit who was unable to bypass such a palty defense would probably be executed by his own troops for genetic incompetence. However, not wanting to cause a scene, I offered to look into the 'repellant' angle ... even though I found that option to be as repugnant, and wasteful of my time, as the name implied.
Le Morte De Vermin, Part 24 (June 3rd, 2006)
RECONNISANCE
I spent 2 hours driving to three different gardening supplies stores, to no avail. Not only was it a bit too late in the season to find replacement parsley plants, none of the people I'd asked had heard of rabbit repellant.
Then, a lightbulb went off ... one of my old friends was a horticulturalist at a garden supply store that was a bit further out of my way. A quick call confirmed he still had several skids of Italian parsley, as well as a product called "Liquid Fence" that repels with an aroma of rotten eggs. I'll be stopping there after work tonight, to arm for battle.
At the moment, my planned tactics are as follows:
1) Overplant an enormous amount of parsley ... 24 plants ... and hope I can defend them long enough until their rate of growth exceeds the ability of the furred legions to consume them.
2) While the parsley grows, surround it with non-toxic olifactory repellant. Since my older brother insists on trying this, in lieu of my simply killing (and eating) the enemy, I will force him (at gunpoint, if need be) to take point on applying the repellant, per the instructions.
I'll just have to wait and see what happens.
TRUCE BROKEN !
After a year's peace, the kinfolk of the late Hugh Bastard Bunny have violated the terms of the armistice, by clear-gnawing my newly planted parsley all the way to ground level. Bastards !
I know it was the ilk of HBB that was responsble, because one of their scouts intercepted me on my way to the garden, and stared me straight in the eye, bold as can be, from a distance of 5 feet. The Nerve !
I opened the latest round of hostilities with a volley of loud curses, and shooed the enemy across the street towards the neighbor's yard. This promptly drew the attention of my kind-hearted older brother, who (as mentioned in Parts 22 & 23), had previously switched sides and turned traitor by siding with fur-covered legions.
He mentioned that he heard of the existence of non-toxic repellants, and suggested I buy fencing to protect the parsley. I politely retorted that rabbits are burrowing creatures, and that any rabbit who was unable to bypass such a palty defense would probably be executed by his own troops for genetic incompetence. However, not wanting to cause a scene, I offered to look into the 'repellant' angle ... even though I found that option to be as repugnant, and wasteful of my time, as the name implied.
Le Morte De Vermin, Part 24 (June 3rd, 2006)
RECONNISANCE
I spent 2 hours driving to three different gardening supplies stores, to no avail. Not only was it a bit too late in the season to find replacement parsley plants, none of the people I'd asked had heard of rabbit repellant.
Then, a lightbulb went off ... one of my old friends was a horticulturalist at a garden supply store that was a bit further out of my way. A quick call confirmed he still had several skids of Italian parsley, as well as a product called "Liquid Fence" that repels with an aroma of rotten eggs. I'll be stopping there after work tonight, to arm for battle.
At the moment, my planned tactics are as follows:
1) Overplant an enormous amount of parsley ... 24 plants ... and hope I can defend them long enough until their rate of growth exceeds the ability of the furred legions to consume them.
2) While the parsley grows, surround it with non-toxic olifactory repellant. Since my older brother insists on trying this, in lieu of my simply killing (and eating) the enemy, I will force him (at gunpoint, if need be) to take point on applying the repellant, per the instructions.
I'll just have to wait and see what happens.
Le Morte De Vermin, Part 25 (June 5th, 2006 ... evening)
CHEMICAL WARFARE
So, I met my demented friend, the horticulturist (and a devout worshipper of Cuthulu), at his store, and after picking out the herbs I wanted, he giggled maniacally and led me to the chemical weapons aisle. He waggled his eyebrows and promptly handed me a large spray bottle of a product called Liquid Fence, which loudly proclaimed to be non-toxic, made from kelp, and utterly foolproof. Yeah, right. It also cost a whopping $20 US. My friend's employee discount dropped that back down to $15, but I was still scandalized at having to shell out money due to vermin ... it was almost as if Hugh Bastard Bunny was picking my pocket in person. I looked back and forth between the label, and my friend's slightly crazed glare, and decided to give it a whirl.
After paying and bidding my friend goodbye, I raced the twilight to get home to my parent's garden, while there was still light enough to work. As I turned the last corner to my Parent's house, 3 bunnies bounded across the street. Being the kind-hearted individual that I am, I reflexively hit the brakes ... and then suddenly remembered that I was a soldier in wartime, and cursed myself for not having hit the accelerator instead. Old habits die hard. In any case, the appearance of rabbit reinforcements was a bad omen.
After replanting hastily replanting the herbs, I opened the nozzle, and let fly with the first three spritzes of my chemical weapons ... and nearly fell over. As an oneophile (as well as a top predator), I pride myself of having a fairly sharp nose, and getting a good whiff of this stuff was akin to blasting a supertanker's airhorn into a sensitive dish-microphone. The label claimed it smelled like rotten eggs. Understatement of the year. What the label *should* have said was that it smelled like 3 parts vomit, 1 part rotten eggs, 1 part overripe blue cheese, 1 part overflowing cesspool, and 1 part pure Biblical Evil. Naturally, the nozzle leaked, and the stuff dribbled onto my hand too. Oh joy. I had to wash my hands about 5 times to get the stink off.
In any case, the die has been cast ... the next move is up to the fur-covered enemy.
CHEMICAL WARFARE
So, I met my demented friend, the horticulturist (and a devout worshipper of Cuthulu), at his store, and after picking out the herbs I wanted, he giggled maniacally and led me to the chemical weapons aisle. He waggled his eyebrows and promptly handed me a large spray bottle of a product called Liquid Fence, which loudly proclaimed to be non-toxic, made from kelp, and utterly foolproof. Yeah, right. It also cost a whopping $20 US. My friend's employee discount dropped that back down to $15, but I was still scandalized at having to shell out money due to vermin ... it was almost as if Hugh Bastard Bunny was picking my pocket in person. I looked back and forth between the label, and my friend's slightly crazed glare, and decided to give it a whirl.
After paying and bidding my friend goodbye, I raced the twilight to get home to my parent's garden, while there was still light enough to work. As I turned the last corner to my Parent's house, 3 bunnies bounded across the street. Being the kind-hearted individual that I am, I reflexively hit the brakes ... and then suddenly remembered that I was a soldier in wartime, and cursed myself for not having hit the accelerator instead. Old habits die hard. In any case, the appearance of rabbit reinforcements was a bad omen.
After replanting hastily replanting the herbs, I opened the nozzle, and let fly with the first three spritzes of my chemical weapons ... and nearly fell over. As an oneophile (as well as a top predator), I pride myself of having a fairly sharp nose, and getting a good whiff of this stuff was akin to blasting a supertanker's airhorn into a sensitive dish-microphone. The label claimed it smelled like rotten eggs. Understatement of the year. What the label *should* have said was that it smelled like 3 parts vomit, 1 part rotten eggs, 1 part overripe blue cheese, 1 part overflowing cesspool, and 1 part pure Biblical Evil. Naturally, the nozzle leaked, and the stuff dribbled onto my hand too. Oh joy. I had to wash my hands about 5 times to get the stink off.
In any case, the die has been cast ... the next move is up to the fur-covered enemy.
Last edited by Darb on Wed Jun 07, 2006 9:35 am, edited 2 times in total.
Good hunting, Brad!
As for vermin I can tolerate most but I draw the line at rats in my granary (grain storage bins). Agrrr, KILL 'EM ALL! Rat feces in grain is poor food even for cows. I've tried to close up every last possible little entranceway, but still the little buggers find a way in. Sometimes they don't find the way out though- but a dead rat in the granary is not much better than the droppings of a live one.
In retrospect maybe they didn't do much damage, but the day I did find those droppings and that dead rat... well the neighborhood, and the next city, did learn quite a lot new words. And some old ones as well- I am diasppointed to say that Chutulu won't take the job as rat catcher.
Other vermin I have a bit of a troubled relationship with:
*Doves: Sometimes whole flocks of them land and eat my pea seeds after I have sowed them (at 5-7 cm depth, they still seem to find them easily).
*Voles: Their burrows can make harvesting of grass leys difficult- if you get soil mixed into the ensilage, it will go partially bad- there is a chance that there will be produced too many spore bacterias of the wrong kind- and these spores, once et by the cow, will make their way to the surface of the udder, and then contaminate the milk I pull out of the teats, it's simply very difficult to wash good enough- they hide in skin creases, and may be found on very clean skin indeed (save for spore desinfection- but using an autoclave is hardly healthy to the cow). In turn a small amount of these bacteria spores will make the milk unusable for production of stored cheeses, they survive pasteurisation, but all their competition dies. If there are vole mounds on a field, the only solution is to cut the ley much higher than normal- this will cost in reduced yield per hectare- and have a cereal or other kind of crop the next year.
And Brad- your ever evolving reports on the vermin wars- this is good writing indeed. I'm looking forfard to more reports from the battlefield.
KEE
As for vermin I can tolerate most but I draw the line at rats in my granary (grain storage bins). Agrrr, KILL 'EM ALL! Rat feces in grain is poor food even for cows. I've tried to close up every last possible little entranceway, but still the little buggers find a way in. Sometimes they don't find the way out though- but a dead rat in the granary is not much better than the droppings of a live one.
In retrospect maybe they didn't do much damage, but the day I did find those droppings and that dead rat... well the neighborhood, and the next city, did learn quite a lot new words. And some old ones as well- I am diasppointed to say that Chutulu won't take the job as rat catcher.
Other vermin I have a bit of a troubled relationship with:
*Doves: Sometimes whole flocks of them land and eat my pea seeds after I have sowed them (at 5-7 cm depth, they still seem to find them easily).
*Voles: Their burrows can make harvesting of grass leys difficult- if you get soil mixed into the ensilage, it will go partially bad- there is a chance that there will be produced too many spore bacterias of the wrong kind- and these spores, once et by the cow, will make their way to the surface of the udder, and then contaminate the milk I pull out of the teats, it's simply very difficult to wash good enough- they hide in skin creases, and may be found on very clean skin indeed (save for spore desinfection- but using an autoclave is hardly healthy to the cow). In turn a small amount of these bacteria spores will make the milk unusable for production of stored cheeses, they survive pasteurisation, but all their competition dies. If there are vole mounds on a field, the only solution is to cut the ley much higher than normal- this will cost in reduced yield per hectare- and have a cereal or other kind of crop the next year.
And Brad- your ever evolving reports on the vermin wars- this is good writing indeed. I'm looking forfard to more reports from the battlefield.
KEE
It is written.
Le Morte De Vermin, Part 26 (June 7th, 2006 ... morning update)
MOTHER NATURE INTERVENES
Rain.
Of all the things that could have gone wrong, why did it have to be something as simple as rain ?
Don't bother, it's a rhetorical question. It was obvious that the rabbits had acquired a powerful ally ... my old nemesis, Murphy's Ghost. That's one of the inherent drawbacks of being a triskaidekaphile (fan of lucky 13) - you automatically draw the spiritual ire of old man Murphy, and his bad-luck groupie pessimists.
Nobody wins when they battle old man Murphy, so I resolved that if I was going to go down, I'd do it with style and panache, and with a song on my lips. For starters, I made a mental promise to myself to purchase a lucky rabbit's foot, to keep it dangling from the rearview mirror of my car, and to wear it brazenly whenever I drive over and work in my parent's garden in the weeks, and months ahead. I will also plant some garlic, the bane of evil, at the edges of my garden.
Flushed with renewed resolve, despite the (as yet) minor setback, I called my kind-hearted rabbit-loving older brother, and politely inquired if he'd remembered to reapply the chemical weapons (which he's taken to calling "Rabbit Vomit") after yesturday's rainfall. He had, the herbs were still intact, and he was as impressed with the horriffic smell as I was. We shared a good laugh.
I looked out my window, stared at the rain, and counted my blessings ... that old man Murphy had not, as yet, resorted to more powerful and vindictive reprisals. If he doffs the kiddie gloves, so do I - but not yet.
MOTHER NATURE INTERVENES
Rain.
Of all the things that could have gone wrong, why did it have to be something as simple as rain ?
Don't bother, it's a rhetorical question. It was obvious that the rabbits had acquired a powerful ally ... my old nemesis, Murphy's Ghost. That's one of the inherent drawbacks of being a triskaidekaphile (fan of lucky 13) - you automatically draw the spiritual ire of old man Murphy, and his bad-luck groupie pessimists.
Nobody wins when they battle old man Murphy, so I resolved that if I was going to go down, I'd do it with style and panache, and with a song on my lips. For starters, I made a mental promise to myself to purchase a lucky rabbit's foot, to keep it dangling from the rearview mirror of my car, and to wear it brazenly whenever I drive over and work in my parent's garden in the weeks, and months ahead. I will also plant some garlic, the bane of evil, at the edges of my garden.
Flushed with renewed resolve, despite the (as yet) minor setback, I called my kind-hearted rabbit-loving older brother, and politely inquired if he'd remembered to reapply the chemical weapons (which he's taken to calling "Rabbit Vomit") after yesturday's rainfall. He had, the herbs were still intact, and he was as impressed with the horriffic smell as I was. We shared a good laugh.
I looked out my window, stared at the rain, and counted my blessings ... that old man Murphy had not, as yet, resorted to more powerful and vindictive reprisals. If he doffs the kiddie gloves, so do I - but not yet.