Chronicle: Le Morte De Vermin

[Darb]

{EDIT: The original copy of this thread was inadvertantly deleted during a botched thread move. The source material has since been re-imported from the Microsoft Word file I'd used to compose my posts. Unfortunately, most of the in-thread discussion that was present has since been lost, and I was only able to retrieve some of it from a recent e-mail.}

PREFACE:
This tongue-in-cheek account was written entirely for my own amusement, the amusement of family, and the amusement of some of my internet friends on a forum I help run. It chronicled my attempts to deal with a long-standing squirrel problem that’d been plaguing my humble abode for several years. It's equal parts humor, and creative writing.

WARNING: If you’re a militant left-wing vegan who exalts the rights of wild animals above those of your fellow (wo)men, do us all a favor, save yourself some heartburn and tears, and please stop reading now. No flames please.

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Le Morte De Vermin, part 1

Ok, here's a copy of a family e-mail I just sent out, regarding my recent attempt to assassinate a pesky squirrel that's been tearing up our attic. Strictly for amusement value.

If anyone wants to post something about REAL hunting, please be encouraged to do so.

Hi Dad,

Thanks for loaning me your old BB gun this past Sunday (Feb 1st), so I could go after that pesky squirrel. Holding it really brought back my old target shootin memories

A quick inspection revealed a slightly rusted barrel, a broken "V-I" type sight (the "V" clip is broken off & missing), and about 5 steel BBs (0.177 cal) in the 12 shot pipe. I cocked it, and placed it against some bunched up cardboard on the floor, and it fired ok ... after not having seen regular use in over 18 years. I then placed it near the kitchen window and went about my kitchen chores (making ravioli) while waiting for my pesky son** to appear.

** DIGRESSION: Mary's taken to referring to our squirrel as my "son" (spoken in an exasperated and long-suffering tone of voice), because I made the mistake of feeding him once about 3-4 years ago, and he's since made a home in our attic, found a girlfriend, raised a healthy family of 2, and frequently makes a nuisance of himself raiding unguarded bread and chips from our BBQs during grilling season. He sometimes even greets us when we arrive home, staring at us from close range like we were unwelcome guests in our own house. Nervy little bastard. Our landlord's consistently failed to take action on the matter, which makes the situ even more annoying, because I'm a can-do, results-oriented kinda guy.

Anyway, halfway through my pasta-making session, my "son" finally made his regular appearance in the back yard. I quietly opened the kitchen window, took a sip from the guinness I'd been nursing, and kept half an eye on him as I continued rolling out pasta. When he finally started his usual route up the big tree bole (about 10m from our kitchen widow), I grabbed the gun, cocked it, and quietly drew a steady bead on him. As he came level with the window, I let him have it. Tagged the little bastard square in the ass on my first shot too. Scared the bejeebus outta him. Unfortunately, I think the spring in the gun is a bit old and anemic, because all it did was make him jump ... like he'd been stung by a bee. Probably didn't even break skin. Anyway, he scurried around behind the bole of the tree, and gave me the evil eye from behind the nearest tree-limb crotch. Cunning little bugger, patiently scoping me like that, from 75% cover.

We stared daggers at each other for about 5 minutes before I finally broke the stalemate with an attempted head shot that apparently went *JUST* wide, and ricochet'd of the bark a few inches from his head. That startled him, but he soon popped his head up again. A 3rd shot to the same spot succeeded in flushing him out, and he made an escape & evade attempt by dashing down the tree's bole towards the ground. However, he made the mistake of veering back into view on his way down, and I promptly pegged him square in the back (bullseye !) before he'd gotten 10 feet. Same result, though ... all he did was jump and burn rubber. He appears to have escaped for now, with only his pride wounded.

Last night, on my way home from work, I picked up a small carton of fresh BBs, and a small tube of gun oil. During lunch today, I did a little searching around on the internet, and found out that your gun's considered a 0.177 cal "Spring-Piston" type model. I havent been able to figure out the manufacturer yet, because it's unmarked. In any case, that got me wondering if maybe my trusty old Crossman "M-1 Replica" BB-gun is still kicking around in your basement ? I vaguely remember my gun being a tad more accurate and powerful than yours. The spring in that one may have retained a bit more oompf over the years too. Worth a shot (pun intentional). If not, I might get a price quote on replacing the piston spring in yours ... after I clean it up.

Meanwhile, could you take around a look around for my M-1 for me ? Thanks.

- Bullseye Brad

“Le Morte De Vermin, part 2â€

[Trebor1503]

On down, and 3 million 999 thousand 999 squirells to go. Unfortuantely, come spring (just a few short weeks away) the remaining rodentia will be procreating, so Brad is gonna have to work fast before it is too late.

Good Luck "Dead Eye"

[Darb]

Been busy this week.

Hopefully I'll have a new entry ready after this coming weekend.

[Trebor1503]

At least we know the squirrel hasn't gotten you yet

[wolfspirit]

The squirrel has gotten him, and is impersonating him!

Run, run for your lives!

The squirrels are coming!!!!

magicfan241

[Aunflin]

LOL, magicfan...

...or maybe he has been overtaken by the little known "Squirrel Collective," which coordinates all the various activities of squirreldom: gnawing, climbing, chewing through wires, reproducing, defacating in attics...

Watch out...any of us could be next...

[torybear]

Okay, I am one of those people who loves squirrels I can't help but believe they are wearing fuzzy little pajamas. In fact I love all little fuzzy little woodland creatures including skunks.

That aside...that may have been one of the funniest things I have read since Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. Thanks for sharing.

[Superenigmatix]

It's a good thing you are not a Buddhist Brad or I'm sure that you would be coming back as a Squirrel in your next life

I hope this is a Grey Squirrel [=rat with tail] and not a Red Squirrel!

sE

[Trebor1503]

I am reminded of Heinlins "The Puppet Masters"... Brad has been taken over. Run for your lives. Fear the Masters. Everybody get Naked!



(To understand this comment you would have had to read the book, not seen the movie, which was dookie.)

[Darb]

Le Morte De Vermin, Part 12 (no date)

I wont go into the boring and tedious details, so let me fill in the 2 week gap since my last installment with the observation that life has a way of getting busy at times.

Meanwhile, with the pre-spring thaw finally underway, and the return of daytime temperatures reaching into the 40's and low 50's, my son's brood has been off spending more time outdoors foraging, and their routes/schedules have changed. I've seen less and less of them lately.

However, I am now reasonably certain that the squirrel I'd nailed back on Feb 13th was one of the 4 squirrels in question, rather than an interloper.

My task now is to scrag the remaining three before the arrival of spring, so that they don't return next fall en mass, and launch a population explosion and a military coup against the rightful ruler(s) of castle ... namely, my wife and moi.

[Darb]

Le Morte De Vermin, Part 13 (Mar 1)

Sunday morning arrived like it always does - with the nagging realization that although my bed was too warm and comfy to depart, I had too many things to do, and not enough hours (or energy) to do them in. The comforting oblivion of sleep and sloth beckoned to me, like an insatiable lover. My need to be productive finally won out, but it was a near thing. My lovely wife had already departed for work, so I was alone for the day, with a full quota of weekend chores before me. So, I got up, and got on about them.

Returning from shopping for the week’s groceries, I set about my culinary chores ... cleaning and deboning 9 lbs of chicken thighs for the freezer and making a long overdue batch of gravlax.

Mid-day arrived. While putting out the garbage, the squirrels suddenly made an appearance. Three of them, in a tight formation, raced across the street, passed within 15 feet from me, and hopped into a bush bordering our back yard. There, 2 of them chased each other and wrestled in the upper branches, while the third stayed closer to the ground, with eyes fixed firmly on me ... ready to raise the alarm.

Now, I’d already learned the error of making assumptions back on Valentine’s Day, but I gave my imagination free rein anyway, and guestimated that the squirrel on watch was either my son, or his G/F, and that the 2 squirrels at play in the upper branches were his/her brood. Seemed reasonable. Such a guess also seemed to narrow the odds that the squirrel I’d off’d back on 2/13 may indeed have been either my son or his G/F afterall.

So, without trying to appear too eager, I casually made my way back inside, grabbed the gun, slid open the window, loaded, pumped, grinned malevolently, and took aim at the squirrel on watch in the lowest branch. My strategy was simple ... take out the squirrel on watch nearest the ground, and use the bole of the bush as a killing zone, because they had to descend through it in order to get away.

I was *JUST* about to reassign the sentry squirrel to patrol in the hereafter when my old nemesis, Murphy’s Ghost, suddenly made his unwanted presence felt ... our downstairs neighbors pulled into their driveway, not even 10 feet from the bush I was covering, and the squirrels promptly fled to cover.

I closed the window in disgust, discharged the gun into a thick pile of newspapers, and resumed my chores. I felt Murphy’s ghostly foot connect with my posterior, followed by a malevolent guffaw. I paused long enough to fling a mental curse in his general direction before getting on with my day.

Meanwhile, in the larger scheme of things, time & cold weather are rapidly running out on this endeavor. I figure I have, at most, only a few more short weekends before my fuzzy little foes leave their sanctuary in my attic for warmer weather ... not to return with any degree of useful regularity until early next winter.

[Trebor1503]

Wow... it is like watching Wiley Coyote trying to catch the RoadRunner.

[Darb]

There's not much point in drafting a chronicle unless it's amusing enough to be worth reading (and therefore writing)

[Darb]

Le Morte De Vermin, Part 14 (Mar 6)

There are times when death can be a welcome and beautiful thing. This was not one of those times, because it was premature.

It was one of those cold, damp, late winter mornings when Mother Nature, still cranky from her restless winter slumber, and not yet wearing her spring face, scowled sourly at the world through jaundiced eyes. Gaea, when she was feeling especially old and haggard, preferred to share her misery with her unwilling guests by inflicting things like rheumatism, influenza, and assorted other aches and pains - unpleasant little reminders of old injuries and the wretched excesses of youth.

Jill J. Squirrel, however, was feeling young and vibrant, and was largely oblivious to Mother Nature’s cranky demeanor. She, along with her sibling, were foraging for breakfast in the cold damp ground ... pawing up seeds and nuts buried the previous fall.

A loud ‘pop’ startled her from her morning repast, and her sibling bolted for the shrubs ... a small flurry of tail hairs marking his previous position. Not seeing any immediate threats, Jill decided to hop up on the nearby fence, in order to get a better view of her surroundings. Loud noises were commonplace, and most of them were usually harmless.

Looking around for a few moments, she saw nothing. Then, just as she was about to hop back down to resume her breakfast, a second ‘pop’ sounded, and she was suddenly knocked from her perch by a vicious impact. Instinct and panic took over, and she raced for the big tree bole ... towards the safety of the upper branches, and the hidey hole high up atop the big house.

She was about half way up the big tree by the time she realized that something was terribly, terribly wrong. Her left hind leg wasn’t working. In fact, it was dangling, and she couldn’t feel it. Panting heavily, she struggled to climb higher with her forelegs, and her other hind leg ... but it was no good. She could see her favorite branch above her, but she just couldn’t get there - and she was getting weaker for some reason. She scrabbled on the bark, desperate to reach safety. Confusion and panic warred with each other, and then the beginnings of pain from her dangling leg joined the fray. The moment hung for a short eternity.

Suddenly, a second terrific impact drove her against the tree, mercifully snapping her spine just below the heart. The pain in her lower body stopped. She clutched the tree convulsively for a moment, and then fainted.

She awoke moments later on her back, staring up at her beloved branches, set against the stark gray sky. It was beginning to rain, she noted idly ... time to go indoors. The pain had already vanished, and she felt sleep approaching rapidly - which confused her greatly, because she always slept curled up on her side in a snug dark place, rather than on her back in a light drizzle, staring up at the open sky.

Eyes still open, she began dreaming ... climbing her beloved tree towards home, and rest, and freedom from the unending scramble of mortality.

Then she slept, and woke no more.

NAME: Jill J. Squirrel
BORN: Unknown
DIED: March 6th, 2004

[Darb]

Le Morte De Vermin, Part 15 {Mar 8}

The garbage truck rolled on up the street like a hungry mechanical beast, with its human handlers dangling from it’s monsterous sides. Every so often, it paused with an impatient squeal of its brakes, and allowed its handlers to dismount and gather more refuse for it’s unending hunger. And so it lumbered from house to house, feeding as it went.

It’s maw finally full, one of the handlers threw a lever, and the monstrosity slowly extended it’s enormous upper jaw, closed its mouth over it’s stinking repast, crushed it mightily, and then swallowed everything in a single huge gulp.

I winced from the safety of my kitchen window, trying hard not to think of the effects of that terrible crushing force on the tiny body of Jill J. Squirrel ... nestled safely in one of the bags the beast had just devoured.

There goes the way of all flesh, I pondered sourly - involuntarily weighed down by Mother Nature's late winter melancholy. To break the mood, I half-heartedly hummed to myself one of the theme songs from Disney’s “The Lion Kingâ€

[Darb]

That's 2 down, 2 to go ...

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During lunch, some grim math occured to me.

I'm 40 yrs old. Suppose I've consumed say, 8 oz of meat (including beef, lamp, pork, chicken, turkey, and seafood) on a daily basis, on average, for my whole life to this point.

That's 7,300 lbs of processed flesh.

Figure further that the typical critter is only 50% useable meat - the rest is skin, bones and other inedibles.

That's 14,600 lbs of assorted land, sea and air-based critters who've been consumed by yours truly.

(brief pause to contemplate the grandeur of it all)

Well ... I suppose it's better to be at the top of the food chain than somewhere further down

[Trebor1503]

Figuring an average cow size of what 1000 lbs?

That would be about 13 cows... so you would eat a baker's dozen

[Darb]

Boy, I polished parts 14 & 15 until they were shinier than yer butt, and all you've got for me is a wisecrack about my math ?

Sheesh - that's gratitude for ya.

p.s. I may eventually relocate this thread to "The Quill & Fountain" area, since it's slowly been evolving in flavor from a tongue-in-cheek chronicle into a slightly more literary-oriented thingee.

[NancyH]

i'm impressed at the squirrel PoV piece. I'm not sure i could shoot anything at all, and I think it must take a strong person to consider their prey from the other side. it's a good writing exercise, and a good mental one as well.

i like "the unending scramble of mortality" window into a squirrel's mind!

[Darb]

Thanks.

I suppose it was something of an epitaph, because I felt bad for having had to put her down (I knew it was a 'her' after retreiving & disposing of the body). It happened almost exactly as I described it. It's hard not to feel a certain degree of kinship in such situations, because killing anything, even a small animal, exacts an emotional toll of sorts.

The subsequent tongue-in-cheek post I made, about the mathematical realities of eating meat & being at the top of the food chain, was just a half-hearted, half-joking attempt to put things into perspective.

It's one thing to non-chalantly put a cornish game hen in your cart at a supermarket, but it's a different experience entirely if you have to geek, pluck & gut the thing yourself while it's still flapping. I'm not advocating vegetarianism by pointing this out - I'm just being wistful & reverential about what it means to be alive and thus dependant on other creatures in order to remain alive.

[Trebor1503]

It normally makes it harder to kill when you personalize the prey. This is the same reasoning behind not naming farm animals. But I guess if you are cold blooded enough...

[Darb]

Trebor1503 snidely remarked:

This is the same reasoning behind not naming farm animals

This coming from a man who routinely has hawt hawt man-on-sow luvin before turning his erstwhile sex partner(s) into slabs of smoked bacon & baby back ribs ?

Pot, kettle, black my friend.

[Darb]

I think it may be time to dogear this thread for a while - spring has sprung, and unless I get lucky, I probably won't have many easy chances until late next fall.

[Kahrey]

i didnt have time to read the post except it was about a squirrel tearing up your attic....

we actually had one (with a beard, lol) that would get between the walls in my parents closet in the trailer. we tried to get him for months. shooting through the wall, spraying all kinds of posions, hammering nails through.... we tried everything. a few times it even got loose in their closet! it tore up that corner of the trailer so bad that when it rained their closet got soaked. bugs got in all the time, it was horrible. finally after months of that crap, my dad got a hold of it and shot it. it was funny really. after everything.

[Darb]

Well, if you get bored, feel free to go back and begin reading from page 1 ... you might find the experience amusingly cathartic (WOTD)