Friday, July 30, 2010

We moved deeper into the country two years ago. Our backyard is host to Hawks, Turkeys, Pileated Woodpeckers, Bears, Deer and Racoon. There is a super-highway of chipmunk tunnels underneath our back deck and I suspect that one day we will simply disappear into a large sink hole full of acorns. I am married to the modern day Elmer Fudd. Like Elmer, who's nemesis was that wascally wabbit...my husbands ire has been raised by the squirrels who routinely eat from my bird feeders. At 6:15 every morning just as the first bird starts tweeting, he leaps from our bed and grabbing his trusty pellet gun runs buckass naked to the back yard. Unbeknownst to me in my early morning slumber, he hears that wascally gway sqwirrel leap onto the feeder for his morning meal. POW...the pellet guns mighty retort goes, scaring every living animal in a 1 mile radius and abruptly pulling me from my morning sleep. I yell, I carry on...shhhh, he says. I'm hunting sqwirrels. Be vwery, vwery quiet. The numbers of visiting squirrels have dwindled though whether its due to the pellet gun or the naked guy scaring the crap out of them...I'm not sure. As far as I can see, the only thing he's shot so far has been my inflatable pool toy. I'll stand over here while Elmer wrestles that mighty squirrel!

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