The Squirreliminator.

The line has been drawn.  Boundaries have been over-stepped.  My bank account is being affected.  Thanks to last winter-that-wasn't, besides my War on Ratz, I have been overrun by every imaginable rodent population.  Grey squirrels are chewing on feed cans, prying them open, waltzing brazenly into the chicken coop.  Red squirrels are just plum crazy - they fling themselves across the deck like lunatic acrobats.  All they need are glitter tights and capes.  Geezloueeze. 

Figuring it was safe (from bear intervention) to put out the birdseed, I allowed myself to fall into a false sense of normalcy.  I love to watch the birds flitting about, grabbing a seed with their little talons and zipping away, tiny chickadees whisking about your head.  I love my cardinal couple, even though he still seems fixated with my car rear view mirrors.  I love the Jones Family Sparrows, all million-and-a-half of them (most of whom lounge around in the chicken coop all day).  I get goosebumps when I sight a nuthatch.  But, do I enjoy watching Dom (DeLuise) and Orson (Welles) draping their fur-clad-sumo-like girths over my bird feeders?  I do not.  Nor do I like their cousins, Fatty (Arbuckle) and Fat (Boy).  Or their brothers Lard (Butt) and Big (Booty).  You get the picture.

So far these grey-coated buckets of suet have chewed my bird feeders to bits, eaten every bit of seed meant for the birds, damaged feed pails, and godknowswhatelse.  I have thrown rocks at them, curses at them, have sic'd Scrappy on them (he's mostly into the opening shot out of the door, then quickly goes downhill after that).  I have had enough.

Enter the {{Squirreliminator}}.

Also known as the Gamo Hornet .177 Air Rifle.  Oh, yah.  This baby shoots TWO kinds of pellets (.177 for regular vermin/varmints and .22 for big game like - what? - opossums?).  It is probably the only weapon I am safe with.  I've been practicing by hitting a cardboard box (once in a while) and by making thinly veiled threats to the squirrels.  The only drawback I can see - well, one of two - is that it breaks very hard to load.  By the time I wrestle with it and squint my way to loading the teeny, tiny pellet in the teeny, tiny hole, most of the varmints have packed their maws with seed and have headed to their lairs.  But I'm determined.   However, there is one other tiny drawback.  I don't think I actually want to hit them.  I gave Orson (or was it Fatty?) a goose yesterday and I was walking around wringing my hands for an hour.  I am rather hoping that word will get around and they will go find a less deadly place to pillage.

Very truly yours,

Sweezie The Wuss