Squirrel Wars, Chapter 2: Things get nuts!

After having spent a good portion of my lifetime seeking to take them out to dinner in the most literal of ways, a strange epiphany allowed me to view squirrels as sort of misguided little puppy dogs.

Maybe they’re not just "tree rats" after all, I told myself. Perhaps, they’re more like miniature versions of my own pup, Frankie, with cold little noses, whiskers and expressive eyebrows.

When I abruptly but sincerely vowed to end my warring ways against their kind, the squirrels apparently missed the memo. I suppose it’s a stretch to imagine an animal with a brain the size of a chickpea can grasp the concept of a cease fire — especially when so much of that tiny brain seems to be devoted to driving me nuts. Or maybe it was simply too late to abort their latest mission once I announced my stand-down.

And so it was, on a recent Monday morning, when a co-worker and I spotted a large gray squirrel inconspicuously milling about near the front end of our work truck, we playfully mused the rodent was planting a bomb. When the critter seemed to vanish underneath the vehicle, I became genuinely suspicious.

“Cody, how about you stand clear as I start the thing up,” I said. “That way at least one of us will be left to name the suspect.”

When the engine turned over, that same varmint shot out from underneath the vehicle like a rocket-propelled grenade, missing the startled young man by less than a foot. Now fully wary of the interloper, we popped the hood to discover not just the hideout of a single actor but instead the headquarters of an entire squirrel sleeper cell. An entire platoon of young squirrels was hunkered down in a leaf-littered entrenchment between the valve covers.

Obviously outmanned, we called in reinforcements from the office who arrived within minutes. Their strategy of surrounding the baby squirrels with cameras in hand did little to shift the battle in our favor.

“Oh my gosh, they’re so cute!” “Can we take them home?” “How about we move their little nest to our office?”

This was not the type of tactical support I was looking for.

It was ultimately decided we would leave the hood open to allow momma squirrel to evacuate her brood. If, by the end of the day, any of the enemy remained, they would be transported by tow truck to an impoundment facility to await further processing.

For those of you who fear that such a trip might harm the young varmints, note that these young squirrels had likely traveled hundreds of miles already while huddled amid the whirr of gears, belts and dangerously gnawed electrical wires. Regarding the latter, their own mother’s work of sabotage, resulting in over $300 in damage, would mark the end of the brief period of détente between man and squirrel. Clearly there are battles yet to be fought and wars yet to be waged, whether or not my enemy has cute, little whiskers and expressive eyebrows!

Kristin and John Lorson would love to hear from you. Write Drawing Laughter, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email John at jlorson@alonovus.com.