Dear Mr. (Ms.?) Squirrel –
I’m not sure when your antics in my garden ceased to become amusing or even merely annoying and crossed over into infuriating. Perhaps it was when you dug up every last daffodil bulb I carefully planted last year and ate one bite out of each, leaving the rest to rot. Or maybe it was when you oh so casually decapitated all of my sunflowers long before summer was over.
Let’s see, it could have been when you rooted around in my newly planted salad seed sprouts, disturbing pretty much every one so that they died (popsicle sticks mark heads of rows which once held many mesclun seedlings):
Or was it when you dug up half my chard starts, ruining my circular planting pattern?
In any case, this weekend was the last straw. You didn’t even let me get a decent, daylight picture of the jack-o-lanterns my daughter carved before you grotesquely gnawed on their eye sockets
and completely absconded with the top of her “grandpa pumpkin” which was about the cutest thing I’d ever seen.
At least you didn’t get her lion-silhouette one, or at least not yet. I think I’ll have to bring that one in.
Oh, and thanks for leaving the disgusting mess for me to clean up, possibly with industrial-strength bleach since my kid spends a lot of time touching stuff on that porch and your germs are probably pretty alarming.
So, it’s official. I hate you! Even though I know you are just doing your job, storing up fat to survive the winter. There’s so much food around that I don’t care about, why don’t you take some of the neighbor’s unused apples, or try to remember where you buried your million acorns earlier this fall? I’m almost to the point where I’m ready to get out the Have-a-Heart humane trap and go find you a new home, somewhere far, far away…
Anyone else tangling with critters lately? Any non-violent anti-squirrel advice to share?