We've been treated to an epic, weeks-long e-debate about a new loo in the club house (Group consensus: Yes. And it happened, people. There was even an open house!) AND gotten some awesome recommendations for home improvement services in The Beav. So, listservs are GOOD!
But I have to admit I wasn't quite ready for this recent subject line: "Dead squirrels on SW xxx Ave. (not roadkill)".
Now, squirrels have been the subject of a few listserv emails this summer. But largely the living kind.
According to most missives, our local squirrel population seems to have increased alarmingly this summer, (probably, according to my listserv statistics, because there are way fewer coyote sightings than last year) and as we've seen for ourselves, the little buggers apparently thrive on seeds, nuts and aggravating local homeowners.
But dead squirrels. That's a whole different bag of rodents. The sender wondered if some squirrel vigilantes were leaving out poison bait and cautioned "neighboring cats and dogs [and birds]-- and possibly children -- could be at risk, either by direct access to the bait, or by access to the squirrel corpses."
Ewwwwwwwww. But point well taken.
Which brings me to how we've been dealing with The Crater-nator and Rocky:
|Behold: The elixir of gods.|
There WAS some early payback on the part of The Crater-nator and Rocky. They actually ditched some of the seeds in various pots on the Postage Stamp Patio, causing a bit of death and destruction as sunflowers attempted to heave themselves up toward the sun.
And now, as the fluffy-tailed (but much humbled) terrorists scamper across the PSP in search of less inflammatory victuals, they occasionally glare at me.
|Ever been mean-mugged by a 4-inch squirrel? I have.|
But I do think about "Dead squirrels. . . (not roadkill)." And sincerely hope little puffs of smoke weren't coming out of the ears of the deceased when discovered.
That would be, well. . . awkward.
DISCLAIMER: Dear PETA and animal rights people, my backyard bird experts assure me the squirrels are safe. They, like the 90-year-old Mom Unit, just do not like spicy food. It's a matter of taste, people. . . a matter of taste. Squirrels have it, too.