Shock Troops Added to Squirrel Army

Mom and the squirrels are fighting again. And I’m afraid this is not going to be a “bloodless” war this year like last year. I was first aware the lines had been drawn again on Saturday. I spend a fair amount of time in my bedroom since that’s where most of my life is stuffed, plus a chair I like to sit in, and my own facilities, and my cat, and a window. It’s not a prison, but it can feel like it, but that’s another story.

Anyway, I was reading while actively keeping my bed from floating away and was surprised to hear my mother speaking in a loud voice saying some rather rude things like, “Yeah, you better run,” and “Just get your cotton pickin’ hands out of there.” At first I thought perhaps my mother the family jock was yelling at the Tigers , but I didn’t hear the t.v. on, nor did the rest of the neighborhood since Grandma is going deaf but doesn’t feel she needs a hearing aid since she’s 100, for pete’s sake.

Then I thought maybe Mom was yelling at Grandma, but while Grandma can be a pain in the ears, Mom knows that if she upsets Grandma, the old woman will make Mom pay for it, big time, tears and everything, and guilt, and saying stuff about not wanting to live, and more guilt. Then I realized someone was slamming and rattling the flimsy screen door to the deck, and put two and two together to get the answer “my mother is insane.”

I thought perhaps the squirrels were just having fun with Mom, what with the recent rain and then the nice weather over the weekend, but again, I was incorrect. During the late hours on Saturday, something climbed one of the pines in the back yard and that something fell when the branch cracked, rather audibly, and fell to the ground. The ground didn’t shake, but it was a pretty good “whumph” that I heard. I would imagine if the “someone” could have spoken English, I would have heard a few curse words.

On Sunday, Mom did yell at the Tigers and she yelled at the squirrels. She did a lot of rattling again—the door, not her head. But, there was not BB gun action, so I was hoping that things were just going to stay low key, until I left the house on Monday, then everything went to hell.

I cover about two miles on a dirt road when I take the most direct route to Imlay. I also live near a public game hunting area, which means the deer move to our side of the road in September and move back to the other side when they’re pretty sure they’re safe again. Anyway, while driving to town, I happened to pass a raccoon who was taking a nap on the road, except he looked really, really tired and not very relaxed. He was still there when I came home, so I had to think very hard to decide that, alas, he was sleeping the sleep with Morpheus. Sigh.

This is the first casualty, you realize? Granted, the snoozing raccoon was almost two miles away from my house, but surely there can’t be too many raccoons out there. Okay, so there is a raccoon hunting club near where I live, ostensibly named something like “Coon Hunters Club” or something like that, and I’m pretty sure they really do hunt the furry, four-legged animals rather than using ugly language to describe a despicable thought pattern. Still, I’m pretty sure the squirrels have been pretty, pretty busy while we’ve been enjoying the “cease fire.” I’ll just bet you the squirrels recruited some of their more rare forest buddies and talked them into being the front line shock troops, and just look what’s happened. I just pray it wasn’t Ricky or Rocky who went “whumph” out of that tree.

I wonder if the squirrels are thinking of trying to recruit me or Grandma into their cause. Grandma couldn’t pull it off because she probably couldn’t hear then unless they stood on her shoulder and screamed bloody murder in their little tinny voices. I won’t do it because I like living here, on the safe side of the BB gun. Yep. They’ll just have to go this one alone, I guess.

In the late hours of Monday, I met another soldier in the squirrel army. I heard what I thought was Rocky and Ricky outside, but someone was royally pissed. At first I thought I heard a dog walking past the house. They like to hang out behind the barn next door and smoke corn silk. Disgusting habit. Anyway, I also heard a high-pitched chatter. I thought perhaps Flipper had come for a visit, but then I remembered we’re landlocked.

The chatter proceeded to north end of the house, so I turned on the light on the deck and didn’t see anything at first, but the chatter got closer and closer, until a small raccoon climbed up and introduced herself to me. Because she spoke in Juvenile, I didn’t quite catch all her words, but I think her name is Roxy and she’s a first cousin to Ricky and Rocky. I could be wrong. You know how confusing Juvenile is to adults.

Anyway, Rocky was having himself some supper and every time Roxy came near, he’d growl, which reminded me of how Amber growls at Kelly if Kelly has the nerve to try and make friends.

So, back to Roxy. She showed me how tall she is by stretching herself on her hind legs and grabbing at the flimsy screen door and then gave me a run down on the events as she understood them, or as I was able to grasp them. She’s a cute little thing, but I worry because she really should be more afraid of humans or at least pick better places to hang out besides my back yard.

Ah, youth. So moronic. So without brains.