Monday, October 17, 2011

The Squirrel Story

Don't read this if you are a squirrel lover.  It's not a happy story....

This is one of the big walnut trees in my backyard.  It is one of about 7 trees that make up a squirrel-condo neighbourhood.  There are several generations of squirrel families that call Shady Estate home.  Mostly we leave them alone, and are grateful they take all the walnuts so we don't have to rake and shovel them all up.  There is harmony between the creatures in our back yard.
Except that Stewy and Rocky keep forgetting that.

Last week as Boy and I were leaving for his hockey practice we noticed a big, fat, gray squirrel (the only reason I mention "big, fat" is because it distinguishes it from the other one) and a little wee black squirrel at the base of this tree.  Then we noticed Stewy all hunkered down in his hunting position.  I wasn't too worried at first because squirrels are fast, and they were close to the tree.

Shoulda worried.

Stewy pounced on the little squirrel. Caught him and gave him a good shake in his mouth.  I went screaming into the yard.

"No, Stewy! NO, NOOO"

Stewy dropped the little black squirrel and I chased him away.  Then I saw that the little fella was injured. He was trying to crawl back to the tree, but he was dragging his hind end.  It was pitiful.

Boy had his hockey stick in his hand still and he offered to pound it so it wouldn't suffer.

"No, no.  I can't let you club him to death."

Boy ran to the shop and returned with his pellet gun.

"I can get it in one shot, mom. It's really hurt."

By this time the little squirrel had started his slow climb up the tree.  Clinging by tiny little front claws with his back legs hanging.

"Okay, okay," I said, "put him out of his misery."

Boy lined up to take the shot.

"Stop, stop!" I yelled, "you can't."

"I can, mom.  I can do it.  Don't look. I'll tell you when it's over."

"No you can't, Boy.  His mama is calling him.  We've got to let him say good-bye to his mama."

Indeed, the big, fat momma squirrel was in the tree in the lowest branch chittering and calling to the little one.  I just couldn't let Boy kill the baby infront of her. I told him that if the little one was still there when we got home from hockey then I would put it down.  It's something only mommas understand.

Boy put down his weapon and said, "project much, mom?"


Neither squirrel was around when we got home from the arena.  So now I picture a little invalid squirrel tucked away somewhere in his nest in this tree, with momma nursing him and feeding him walnut pieces.

Sunday, October 16, 2011


There was just an explosion at my house.  Near my house.  Specifically, by the shop behind my house.
It was loud enough that my windows shook a bit, and I jumped from my chair by the computer, where I am supposed to be working on DH's books (and I was, working on DH's books that is) until the big BOOOM!

Guess what?
When you fill a pumpkin with acetelyne and then set a torch to it, it blows up.
It blows up big.  And loud.  And spreads pumpkin all over the place.

Guess how I know that?
There is pumpkin all over the driveway in front of the shop.

Guess how that happened?
DH, Boy and Girl made that happen.  That's how.

I don't know the details.  I don't really want to know the details.

When I looked out the back window to see which army was bombing my yard I saw the three of them bent double with laughter and  pointing at the pumpkin debris.

It would have made a great picture.  But I didn't take the photo because that might mean I condone that type of destruction.  And I don't.

They seem to have all their limbs but perhaps not their faculties.

Might not have had those in the first place though....

I am bracing for the next blow.