It’s fall, without a doubt: squirrels are dropping by the thousands. In their frantic search to find enough food for winter, they don’t look where they’re going. This morning, it was my turn. It happened like this: I was driving downhill and therefore slightly faster than technically allowed, the squirrel in question decided the morning commute was an excellent time to cross a really busy road, and Splat. As I felt the thump under my right front wheel, I gagged a little; I didn’t say anything out loud, because my son was in the car with me at the time.
Normally, squirrels do that crazy back-and-forth thing when they’re caught in traffic; should I go back, should I go forward, should I panic? Alas, this one didn’t hesitate. It was the end of his short life: a sure sign that rash decisions often lead to no good, whether you’re a human being or a rodent with a small brain and no critical thinking skills.
I’m grateful my son didn’t notice a thing. The last thing I need is a five-year-old accusing me of cold-blooded murder. I can’t tell my daughter either; she will be horrified and not speak to me for a few days (actually, on second thought…). Killing a squirrel is on her list of unforgivable sins.
The animals that populate our neighborhood fall into two categories: cute, and interesting-but-slightly-yucky. The second category is made up of Opossums, and raccoons. They come out during the night, which might account for their mysterious-but-disgusting status; they are feared, and everyone comes running when one’s spotted on the back deck. Also, the opossums’ beady eyes don’t help.
Of the first category, bunnies are by far my children’s favorite: no matter how many hundreds of them traffic the backyard. Every time one shows its mug, the kids exclaim: “aww, a bunny! Cute!!!” as if they just discovered a polar bear cub dancing the hula.
Squirrels are a close second; murder by SUV will not go over well.
“Screw ‘em,” someone on Facebook writes, ‘I accelerate when I see one. Live with them running though your attic for a few months, and you’ll understand why they must be stopped.”
I know exactly what that’s like: I vividly remember the noises that would start, exactly over my head, as soon as I went to sleep in our last house. The calls to the exterminators. The large cages they placed in the attic, and me wondering whether squirrels would actually be trapped in there, and die. Do you smell something funny? The smell of a squirrel decomposing, perhaps? It wasn’t a pleasant experience.
Maybe, when they get older, my kids will realize that squirrels are merely rats with bushy tails. They mask as something adorable, but in reality they spend their days messing up the compost heap, trying to break in to your house, and chewing on the underside of your car. Not to speak of the millions of people whose holiday lights stop working because those dumb creatures don’t know the difference between food and not-food. Until squirrels learn their place, I'm afraid they will have to live with the consequences.
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