And then I wrote...

by Dick Schilling, "Editor Emeritus"

... that I have been fixated by rodents in recent days, some amusing, some annoying.

Before the weekend snowstorm, each day was characterized by frenzied activities of squirrels in my neighborhood. And there are lots of them.

There was an abundance of walnuts this year, and so there is an abundance of squirrels. I remember when a teacher noted that a squirrel is of the same family as the rat, and since I had no appetite for rat meat, I was forced to absorb the fact that we were shooting and eating lots of squirrels each fall, and even canned them for winter’s use. But I would not have considered eating a rat!

Anyway, it was possible to see four or five squirrels active at the same time on the utility companies’ wires, which they travel as confidently as tree limbs. The pole nearest my home is a particularly popular spot, with the top apparently providing a nice table for the eating of a nut, or a partial ear of field corn, from the largesse of a neighbor. They will even fight for the spot.
I assume they are fighting.

I don’t know what the gestation time is for squirrels.

Maybe there will be more squirrels in the spring.

The other rodent encounter was less amusing.

I needed some brown sugar for something, and when I took the package off the shelf, some sugar trickled out. Lousy packaging, I thought. But the hole was erose and I could not see a cause. There was not much left, so I tossed the rest.

Next day, I wanted some wheat crackers for something, and took out the big box and removed the one sleeve of the four which had been opened. Four or five crackers had been gnawed through a similar hole.

Mouse! With a dietary preference, no less.

I had not had to set a mouse trap for at least a dozen years, but I found one, and baited it with peanut butter, which mice are supposed to like. He did. He cleaned the trap without getting caught. Okay, I thought, something more solid. A piece of ham fat. Again, gone, without a thank you note.

So, I practiced setting the trap a few times, refining my lost skill, then tied on a chunk of bacon fat.

Next morning, success! One mouse with its left arm held fast. A lefty, no less. Sinister. From the Middle English word sinistre, meaning left handed.

Isn’t our current president left handed? No offense intended.