Dead Squirrel Walkin'!

While I was home this winter, Mom was distressed that the squirrels had really begun making a mess of her back porch bird feeder. After 20-something years, the tree-rats had finally put the word out about the free lunch and suddenly I'd never seen so many sqrrrrlz as had begun marauding the nuts and seeds reserved for birds and dainty little chipmunks.

Can you say fatwa? Mom issued an edict giving Lil Bro and myself a free hand to "take back" the bird feeder and the back porch. Since the pellet gun wouldn't hold a seal any more, we resorted to a live trap and Dad's scoped .22 Marlin. Lil Bro has eight notches on his cartridge belt now. Next time I'm home, I'm bringing the .20 cal Sheridan pellet rifle. If I can snipe little plastic army men with it, tree-rats don't stand a chance.