I am at war with a squirrel! We have an upper deck on the side of the house that is surrounded by live oak trees. Southerners call them water oaks because the grow near the ocean. They look nothing like the traditional oak trees that grow in the north. The leaf is entirely different, as are the branches, etc. But they do drop a million little acorns in the spring. I had heard of live oaks in books and never really understood what that meant. Strange name. Live oak as opposed to dead oak? That was the question that always entered my mind. But no, it's a different variety. The branches spread way out from the trunk and sway easily in the wind, or perchance, hurricane. And our trees are filled with squirrels!
I used to think squirrels were these cute little guys who pranced merrily around in trees chasing each other. Playful, carefree. Now I see vermin waiting to destroy when they think we are not looking. They chew like new puppies. In the past they have found their way into our attic, in the eaves of the house, and under the floor of our deck. We have trapped and released quite a few. My husband always drives them across the Lesner Bridge and figures they won't cross the bridge and come back. Recently someone told us of a man who lives over there and traps them, then releases them on our side of the bridge. Great! They DO cross the bridge!
Our latest bold little adversary jumps out of the trees onto the deck and looks for trouble. Recently I caught him chewing holes in the nice, expensive cover that I bought for our gas grill. Why would he do that? Is he one of the squirrels that returned with a vengeance? Yesterday I chased him off the deck and then watched as he came back four times to taunt me. He jumped on the deck in the same spot each time, did a little dance, then raced down to the far end and flew into the trees. He is laughing at me. I am beginning to identify with Elmer Fudd and his war with the Waskely Wabbit. I'm not happy about this.
I used to think squirrels were these cute little guys who pranced merrily around in trees chasing each other. Playful, carefree. Now I see vermin waiting to destroy when they think we are not looking. They chew like new puppies. In the past they have found their way into our attic, in the eaves of the house, and under the floor of our deck. We have trapped and released quite a few. My husband always drives them across the Lesner Bridge and figures they won't cross the bridge and come back. Recently someone told us of a man who lives over there and traps them, then releases them on our side of the bridge. Great! They DO cross the bridge!
Our latest bold little adversary jumps out of the trees onto the deck and looks for trouble. Recently I caught him chewing holes in the nice, expensive cover that I bought for our gas grill. Why would he do that? Is he one of the squirrels that returned with a vengeance? Yesterday I chased him off the deck and then watched as he came back four times to taunt me. He jumped on the deck in the same spot each time, did a little dance, then raced down to the far end and flew into the trees. He is laughing at me. I am beginning to identify with Elmer Fudd and his war with the Waskely Wabbit. I'm not happy about this.
I am now going to stand guard over my premium vinyl grill cover. This must end. He may be younger and quicker, but I am older and I have more insurance! He better hope I don't meet him on the street!
