Harvey and the ground squirrels
Sept 12, 2020 21:15:51 GMT -5
Woody Williams, whitetaildave24, and 3 more like this
Post by jonsnowii on Sept 12, 2020 21:15:51 GMT -5
I hate ground squirrels more than I used to. I have three that I'd like to whack, but gave away my air rifle several years back. This is why I need a hunting buddy for my 1.00 acre.
I set a rat trap in the spring, but whacked a little squirrel(Harvey) that had recently left the nest. I was upstairs looking out a window to see if I'd caught one yet, when I saw Harvey approaching the trap. I banged on the widow and yelled at him, but he didn't run away. I went to a closer window and did the same, but the fresh allure of Jiffy peanut butter was more than he could resist. I could relate.
Carrying this pandemic excess, I still somehow managed to briskly maneuver down the stairs and outside without passing out; however, Harvey got whacked. He wasn't in the trap, but was badly injured. I thought for sure he was going to die. I ached inside.
Never experiencing anything but a watering mouth for the tasty tree chickens, I was caught by surprise a bit at the agonizing grief. With fear of getting bitten, I resisted picking him up for a minute. Prayer didn't immediately revive him, so I cradled the little critter like a new born baby. Only Jon Snow would pray for a squirrel.
He couldn't use his front legs at first. His attempts to escape yielded a small circle back where he started. I bottle fed him, then started therapy after a few days. Six weeks removed, that fella had made a full recovery. Nursing the little rascal and him sleeping on my belly for weeks produced a strong case Nightingale Syndrome. I now feed Harvey, birds, a wild rabbit, the cutest gray squirrel that I've ever seen, and three pesky ground squirrels ...nuff said.
I set a rat trap in the spring, but whacked a little squirrel(Harvey) that had recently left the nest. I was upstairs looking out a window to see if I'd caught one yet, when I saw Harvey approaching the trap. I banged on the widow and yelled at him, but he didn't run away. I went to a closer window and did the same, but the fresh allure of Jiffy peanut butter was more than he could resist. I could relate.
Carrying this pandemic excess, I still somehow managed to briskly maneuver down the stairs and outside without passing out; however, Harvey got whacked. He wasn't in the trap, but was badly injured. I thought for sure he was going to die. I ached inside.
Never experiencing anything but a watering mouth for the tasty tree chickens, I was caught by surprise a bit at the agonizing grief. With fear of getting bitten, I resisted picking him up for a minute. Prayer didn't immediately revive him, so I cradled the little critter like a new born baby. Only Jon Snow would pray for a squirrel.
He couldn't use his front legs at first. His attempts to escape yielded a small circle back where he started. I bottle fed him, then started therapy after a few days. Six weeks removed, that fella had made a full recovery. Nursing the little rascal and him sleeping on my belly for weeks produced a strong case Nightingale Syndrome. I now feed Harvey, birds, a wild rabbit, the cutest gray squirrel that I've ever seen, and three pesky ground squirrels ...nuff said.
