Squirrels, Noodles and Forgiveness

By Kristi Paxton

Our relationship with Fluffy Tail and cohorts is complicated. When we were in college, we were poor, so my big burly husband often stepped out the back door of our rented farm shack and shot a squirrel. Have you ever tasted a squirrel salad sandwich or squirrel and noodles? Minus the tiny hairs, it is remarkably similar to salad and noodles with chicken, but more labor intensive.

Now, thirty-five years later, I often see same burly husband sitting on the deck, now a squirrel chase  spectator. He is weaponless. I imagine the squirrels remind him of olden days, chasing his brothers.

Next day, I might catch hubby on the same deck, armed, nobly taking aim at a squirrel that has managed to eat a hole into our house. I wonder how he could murder our furry friends. (Incidentally, I’ve never seen one go down in combat)

One night during the flood of 2008, we were watching CSI and my husband disappeared outside for a while. He returned and took his place back on the couch. I figured he’d left his mower out in the rain and went to rescue it. No explanation needed.

Two CSI episodes later I heard a persistent squeaky sound coming from the basement.  “What is that noise?” I asked.

“Oh, that’s my pet squirrel. I found him drowning outside, saved him, brought him in and built him a little house with a bed downstairs.” Hubby didn’t look up from his show.

“Yeah, right.” I refused to look at him and dignify his response.

Another CSI episode ended and the squeaking persisted. During commercial break, I got up as if heading for the bathroom, but went downstairs instead. Behind the utility room door was the squeak source. In a tidy box with a neatly folded red washcloth was a baby squirrel, his wet hair plastered to his bony body. He shivered and squeaked at me.

“I met your friend,” I commented, staring at the screen.

“Yeah, he almost drowned and I saved him,” said my husband proudly.

Next morning, “Pink” (We named him “Pink” after the Pink Squirrel beverage) was fully fluffed, full of fleas and ready to join the family. I glanced at our two leering dogs and suggested we release “Pink” far from home. My husband resisted. He’d already bonded with his new baby.

“You know, some day you will have to decide if you want to murder them or adopt them,” I said.

When he left for work, I delivered “Pink,” in his house, still lying in his bed, to the animal rehabilitation expert in our town. I don’t think my husband ever forgave me.

A Very Squirrelly Tale

 "It takes more guts than talent to write a blog" I told a friend today.  This post may prove that, but sometimes you just have to "write what you know," even if it's squirrelly.

You know the feeling—you’re sound asleep and suddenly you’re awake. What’s that, you wonder? What woke me up? I sat up in bed and sniffed—was that smoke I was smelling? Climbing out of bed I wandered downstairs to the basement. Yep, it smelled, very faintly, like hair was burning somewhere down there. But try as I might, I could find nothing even hot that might be causing the smell. Then, it was gone. Really, not a trace of smokiness in the air. A bit nerve-wracking. Have put out three fires in houses, I know where there’s smoke, there’s fire.

Repeat this scenario for several days, each time, smelling, searching, then nothing. I finally discovered the smell was coming from the CO vent on the top of the hot water heater. I could see nothing, but the smell was definitely very strong and coming out there!

Later that night when My Hero Hubby (MHH) came home, he heard a scratching sound coming from a door at the bottom of an old brick chimney in our basement. This is what the CO vent pipe from the water heater connects to. He opened the small door at the bottom of the chimney saw a bushy tail quivering. He quickly slammed the little door shut. After releasing two mice into the basement during a Christmas tree incident one year, he wasn’t anxious for a repeat of that adventure. Okay so we have a squirrel in the chimney. Is this “Rocky” so dumb that he not only got caught in a chimney but he keeps getting burned by the hot water heater venting?

I called the pest control guy (Squirrel Guy Mike) who came to investigate. With the help of an auger, we discovered that what was burning in the hot water heater was NOT fur, but feathers. Yuk. Since “Tweety” was no longer living, we decided I would take care of the feathered remains and SGM went home to get his squirrel gun for “Rocky,” both of us assuming the poor thing must be traumatized and close to death or at least a coma from lack of oxygen—hah!



JAIL SQUIRREL

As soon as SGM pointed that gun in the chimney, Rocky revived and scooted up straight up those old bricks. Why he couldn’t just keep on going up and out the top is a rodent mystery. So SGM set up a live trap covering the door out of the chimney, took his gun and left to catch a racoon across the way.  Sure enough, within a couple of hours curiousity got the better of  Rocky and there he sat, subdued but wary, looking hungry and thirsty. I placed the cage in the basement shower stall with water and sunflower seeds. By the next morning when SGM came to retrieve him, we had a feisty critter chattering up a storm. SGM was happy to be able to “Bring ‘em back alive” and took Rocky to release him into the wild, far away from our chimney.

Meanwhile MHH (My Hero Hubby) cleaned the leftover baked bird out of the vent for me. And for his birthday, I gave him a bird/rodent-proof hat for the top of the chimney.

So now I’m wondering what to do about the two chick-a-dees who are building a nest in my mailbox….

Just for fun, how about suggesting some spiritual applications for this squirrel saga.  I'll be looking forward to your comments and some great spiritual wisdom. 
About the best I can come up with is a verse we used to quote to our middle child who tended to wake up very crabby:
"All the days of the afflicted are evil, but he who is of a merry heart has a continual feast."
 Prov 15:15. 
Although afflicted with squirrels and birds, laughing and blogging about it makes it all better.