Wednesday, April 24, 2019

Disappointment.


Living in Vermont has certain advantages if you happen to have the hobby of catching squirrels.
My backyard, which is very small, seems to be very attractive to squirrels. They eat our plants, birdseed, nuts from our trees, and have an annoying habit of happily hot dogging it by my compost pile. I have a very nice sized – roomy actually – Have-A-Hart trap which I bait with peanut butter. I then set it in an area in which a squirrel has been hanging from a birdfeeder or otherwise frolicking with gay abandon. After several hours, usually the squirrel takes up residence in my trap.
     I have not trapped squirrels all winter because most of them have gotten discount airline fees to Texas but I know that they will be returning soon. So, I went to scope out the relocation facility where I have taken several generations of squirrels over the last 10 years. If you calculate, as I do, you will know that I average capturing two squirrels per week for the months of May, June and July; 12 weeks. And then I go away for August. Return to capture more squirrels during September, October, and November; an additional 12 weeks. That is 24 weeks total times two squirrels per week for a total of 48 squirrels.
     That’s 48 squirrels per year times 10 years which totals 480 squirrels.
     You may think that these squirrels are actually returning however I am no idiot. I know that if I take the squirrels at least 3 miles away, and the route of return has to go over a fast moving stream, that these squirrels are neither swimmers nor risk takers, and therefore will not return.
     Since I take my squirrels to the same place week in and week out, I know there is not only a giant squirrel community there, but they have built out a retirement center for the elderly squirrels who seem to age out after 8 to 9 years. (Then there’s no accounting for how much breeding these little buggers do in their off time!)
     The disappointment came today when I began contemplating my upcoming squirrel trapping season. This place where I have been taking my squirrels is the ideal location for both the squirrels, and myself. It is a short road which runs parallel to what in Vermont terms is a “superhighway”. (I realize that in Texas terms I know is only a four-lane “farm to market road”.) It is a simple turn off of the larger road and it runs between a heavily wooded area on one side and a rather derelict former auto repair place on the other. I can pull in, park on the road shoulder, take out my trap, say my hasty “adios” to that rascally rodent, and, watch him jet across the road to the trees. Occasionally there are a few cousins to meet them. I do imagine the family gatherings on weekends.
     When I went by today I was shocked! And have I mentioned disappointed!? What I saw was that the beautiful, heavily wooded piece of property on one side had been chained sawed and leveled. There were no trees! And, the once derelict former auto repair place was now a spiffy new truck dealership. There must have been two or three dozen pickup trucks parked there. Obviously the trees were cut so that motorists driving on the larger road could see the inventory of shiny pickups. Trees sacrificed for sales!
     Clearly the environmental impact on those multiple generations of squirrels was not considered when the profit mad capitalists went to town! I can only imagine where all those generations of squirrels fled when the saws started running and the woodchip started flying! I nearly wept at the thought!
     Well, this may be a platform for a Vermont politician!
     I parked my car and looked the situation over. And then the salesman came out smiling broadly and asked if he could help me. I chatted with him for a moment, trying to stifle back my tears, and then noticed that at the back of their parking lot there was a stand of trees! (Trees are everywhere in Vermont.) I wondered if maybe… just maybe my little rodent rascals were rambling somewhere at the back of that lot. If so, I hope that they were getting nuts, and climbing up under the hoods of those trucks to warm themselves on those engines while they nibbled away and left shells on the air cleaners as they had on the cars in my driveway.
     I’m sounding bitter, aren’t I?

 - A BRAINZ POST


Copyright (c) 2018, Jean W. Yeager
All Rights Reserved

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