Neanderpundit

I happen to be fortunate that my house sits on a lot completely covered in great big old Pecan and Oak trees. Not only does it keep my A/C bill low in the summer, but come November, I get a bonus; pecans. Lots and lots and pecans of which, I happen to be a huge fan.

Problem: squirrels, tree rats, whatever the hell you want to call them.

Now if there was only two or three of the cute little devils, I wouldn’t have an issue. They could take their share of the prized nuts, and it wouldn’t bother me in the least. The fact is, I’m a huge fan of nature, plus I enjoy sitting on the porch in the morning watching them go about their business. Just the vision of these little guys taking care of their daily lives has quite a calming affect on this old grouch.

Alas, that ain’t the case. In the last two weeks, I’ve shot five of the little buggers (quite dead, of this I assure you), but five more have seem to immediately taken their places.

As I was shooting the previous five or so, my 10 month old mutt puppy, Bear, would hear the thud of the afflicted treerat as it dropped to the ground and he’d zero in at full pup warp speed to rip the remainder of the unfortunate soul’s carcass apart in a matter of minutes. Apparently, there’s something special about crunching the squirrel’s skull to puppies, as I found that a bit third world.

Anyway, there’s more of the lil’ bastards back, and I dropped a fat male with a (beautifully perfect if I do say so myself) head shot about five minutes ago. As I watched Bear go through his ritual Cujo frenzy, I was considering the economic situation.

Hell, Kelly’s an awesome cook. I’ll let ya know how it turns out.

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