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Squirrel Thwarts

"Git! Git off there you fuzzy, glorified tree rat!" The rock went sailing high through the tree, bouncing off limbs and clattering through the leaves. He leapt from the bird feeder, leaving it swinging in his wake, and ran down the gray-snake back of the split-rail fence that led into the woods. "You greedy varmint! Yours is in the other corner of the yard! Leave the bird feeder alone!" Squirrels. How do you keep ‘em away from the bird feeder? I put out nice whole ears of dried corn and on occasion even pecans in a pile--I treat ‘em good--BUT on the other side of the yard! Still, they come to the feeder, scratching out the seed mix all over the ground in search of the ones THEY want (much like I do with a can of mixed nuts when no one’s looking). They’ll empty a feeder in a day, leaving the chickadees and titmice without.

I’m luckier than most paddlers with family responsibilities; both my wife and one of my daughters paddle. They understand the passion--the undeniable fire in the belly--that some of us have when it comes to paddling. They understand what a two inch rain means to us, and it’s not: what a good day to go to the mall! I’m also lucky in that the purchase of a new boat design isn’t all that difficult to justify to my significant other. "Seems to me that we all shouldn’t have the same design, just in case one of us wants to paddle something different," I’m pat to say. Of course I’ve had to listen to such comments as, "Dad, you forgot to move the seat in my boat back to where it was." or "Honey, why did you glue hip pads in MY boat?" Then there’s always the "where I left the footpegs or bulkhead" issue. One day they’ll learn that it’s very important to check the outfitting of their boat BEFORE going to the river....

I first noticed it hanging from the tree late one afternoon. And a strange contraption it was: a green, boxy looking metal thing suspended by one offset arm. The birds were having a grand ‘ol time fluttering about, chirping happy little full-belly chirps as they did. Then I saw HIM stealthily creeping down the jump limb, his tail flicking in anticipation of yet another feast of sunflower seed. He cocked his head to one side and looked at the feeder, no doubt calculating the effort and trajectory needed for his great leap forward. Then WISSH in a movement almost too fast for the eyes to follow, he leapt and landed on the feeder, scattering the smaller feathered critters in all directions. Then SPROONG in almost the same instant the contraption tripped and sent that fuzzy cob cleaner to the ground! "Whaaaa...???" I said in disbelief as he scampered up the split rails and found his highway back into the sanctuary of the woods. "Ahem!" sounded a voice behind me. "How do you like what we bought for you today at the bird shop in the mall?" There stood my loving wife smiling, smug in the fact that she had done something that I had been unable to do; she had thwarted the squirrel.

I love the new playboat designs. I’m not really a rodeo type but I do enjoy tapping into the various river features that these boats allow. So it was with a positive that I answered my wife when she inquired about the possibility of purchasing one of the newer models for herself. Several days later, there it was on the basement floor: a glossy whitewater craft with red and blue swirls and still smelling of new plastic. "What’s this 220 stamped on the back mean?" I asked. "Oh, that’s just the design...or maybe even a serial number... " she answered vaguely. Later that night I slipped back downstairs and looked at the boat again. A nice boat for sure, I thought as I slipped off my shoes and sat on the cockpit rim. I slid one leg inside. "Dang...what a tight fit," I whispered to myself. I withdrew my leg and pulled out the little blocks of foam that she had painstakingly fitted in as the bulkhead. I tried again. It was all I could do to get that one leg in and stretched out--even then I was sitting up on one cheek and kind of sideways in the boat. Whoa...couldn’t take six hours on the river in this thing. Then I tried the other leg. Oh, how I tried! I pushed it down with my arms but to no avail. I then hopped out and stood. Probably these thick blue jeans, I thought as I shucked down to my drawers. Again and again I tried but just couldn’t get into that boat! "Ahem!" sounded a familiar voice behind me. "Just what do you think you’re doing?" I turned to see my loving wife standing there, hands firmly planted on her hips. I just stood there in my sagging drawers, red mackeled legs bared for all to see...and said nothing. An exit into the sanctuary of the woods would be nice right about now, I thought to myself.

Ken Strickland
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