I see you watching that squirrel on the fence line. Frozen in place, watching
every twitch he makes, waiting oh so patiently for him to make the wrong move. You are my stealth hunter, my ever-ready back-up dispatcher for sure. Remember that one time a couple years ago?
It was such a beautiful day, I took the mountain bike out and went on my first ride of the summer. An hour later, some clouds snuck in, so I took a nap on the sun porch couch while it was raining for about 15 minutes. You were on the cool cement floor right beside me. Then, like magic, the clouds went away, and the porch became so warm it woke us up. Couldn’t ask for better weather to laze around and rejuvenate from a long hard week—or a better day to eliminate a problem…
Yes, we had a problem, alright. A very expensive one, and there he is, at it again. A nuisance squirrel on the prowl. That little sucker has been nesting up in our big tree, sneaking around, tearing up all sorts of stuff on our patio—dug up my $75 newly planted petunias, ripped up my swing canopy for another $300, chewed up my picnic table cover, rooted around and tore up a canvas bag and my bag of potting soil, chewed up part of my wooden bar table, and it’s table cover that I’ll have to replace for another bunch of hundred dollars. But most aggravating is that the destructive vile, rodent chewed a good size hunk out of my $600 hot tub cover, and now that will have to be replaced.
But today, he was not careful. I caught the bugger sneaking across the hot tub over to the bar table, no doubt to chew up the new table cover I put on there two days ago.
Ha! Busted! I saw him from the sun porch window, so I jumped up, and headed for the special cabinet. You knew immediately what was going on, and were right by my side.
“Mama’s getting her gun—oh boy!” You began prancing; tail wagged with delight.
I grabbed my trusty Olympic air rifle, sped upstairs to the guest room above the porch, quietly stepped out the balcony door, and carefully peered over the edge of the roof.
There he was, perched on my bar table, filling his nasty little cheeks with the new table covering.
My heart was racing, my blood boiling—I’ll fix you, you violator! Now granted, it isn’t every day I am on my roof with an air gun, but come on, enough is enough here. The angle was perfect to take a completely safe and discreet shot at the nemesis of my world. So, I took a calming breath, aimed a steady bead between two hairs, and whacked the b%#*##* !! His scrawny little body launched into the air, flipping several times, until he hit the concrete next to the hot tub.
Mission accomplished! Snoopy dance! Big sigh of relief. You spun around and around in a flurry of excitement, not knowing if you should jump off the balcony to fetch him or what. You just knew a wonderful thing happened and wanted to celebrate too.
“Whoa, whoa,” I whispered, holding you back to calm you down.
Wait a minute…what? As I looked down at the concrete patio, to my great surprise, and despite the fact it was a deadly shot, he is.…he is…still moving! The beast apparently is some sort of mutant, and is managing to drag himself half ways over to the fence line to expire.
I hate that when that happens.
You give me ‘that look’, like ‘just let me go finish him off…’
“Hold on now, Buddy, whoa….no bird…no bird.” I try to convince you to relax. This is between me and Mutant Vile Rodent.
No more sneaking! I bolt back into the house, run downstairs, out the back door, gun held high, pellets in my pocket, determined to pump another round into that nasty critter, calling;
“Buddy, you wait here.” And I slipped out the back door, leaving you in the kitchen. No need for you to think the back yard is a free-for-all hunting grounds.
Dang, Vile Rodent was out of sight. How could I lose him? I begin to search the fence line. Searching, searching, can’t find him–ahh, then I see those beady little eyes twinkling amidst the fire pit wood….
Those beady black eyes. Cheeks still plump with my property. I step up to within 10 feet, dropping the next pellet in. WHACKKK! I shoot again. He jolts out from the wood and along the fence line–then actually tries to crawl up my white plastic lattice fence. I reload once more. WHAAAACK! And he drops like a rock to the ground. No movement. Completely still. Thoroughly expired. Mission accomplished! The triumphant protector of our home has done it again. Now it’s time to share the spoils of my victory. I bring you out from the kitchen, on heel, over to the side of the fence line, only to discover that little sucker was gone again! How could this be? Okay, my lean mean hunting machine partner, it’s time for you to step in for the assist.
“Hunt em up, baby, hunt em up!” I command. You immediately kick into full bore hunt mode. Nose to the ground, tracing the exact path the vermin creature took from the exact pinpoint where he first hit the concrete. Your tail flicking, ears flapping, darting up and down the wood pile and fence line with complete focus. Mere seconds have passed when boom, you lock up tight on point, peering through the fence.
Oh great. You’re kidding me. The critter went into the neighbor’s yard to expire.
We could see him lying in the neighbors Snow-On-The-Mountain. They are gone for the weekend. Still, this posed a whole new problem, as I have 6′ lattice fencing tie-wrapped to the 4’ chain link fence all around the back yard. But now was not the time to back down—–so I grabbed the garden scissors, and ‘snip snip snip’ down came a section of lattice fence. “FETCH!”,
And over the top of that four foot chain link fence you went in one graceful leap, instantly back over the top to me with squirrel in tow…in mouth…well, you know what I mean.
“Give. Good boy, thank you.” You were euphoric.
So was I, actually.
And, problem solved.
Ahhh, another day in the neighborhood. It really doesn’t get much better than that. 
I reattached the lattice on the fence and we went about our day.
Buddy, old boy, I know what you’re thinking. We are NOT going after that squirrel on the back fence. Oh, don’t be giving me that look now…..!
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