M. Giant's
Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks

Thursday, August 20, 2009  

Scrat's Pantry

I don't know if it's the cool summer we've had, or what, but there's been an unusual number of acorns falling on our property the last couple of weeks. In fact, it might even be an irrational number.

I could blame it on Squirrel Goodnut, but we haven't actually seen him for a while. Yes, M. Edium pretty much called every squirrel he saw Squirrel Goodnut, even ones that were normal-sized. Those used to be called "Squirrel Goodnut's Tiny Baby Cousin," but since the original has been missing ever since it either turned into a raccoon, fell off a branch and busted its fat ass, or got so large it collapsed into a singularity, the other squirrels have had to fill the void. Which is a bit like placing a small pouch of sand on a couch to disguise the fact that it has just been vacated by Jabba the Hutt..

So I guess it's just as well that all squirrels have been renamed Scrat, after the saber-toothed squirrel in the Ice Age movies who's like a Harold Lloyd character, except that he actually falls.

I think I'll just blame Scrat. After all, it was he who was eating acorns in the tree directly above me a few weeks ago while I was trying to work outside on my laptop. I'm here to tell you that he has horrible table manners. Maybe he wouldn't have to spend so much time searching for acorns if he didn't drop entire halves of them onto my keyboard, causing the insertion of seeveral r4andom, charac ters..

But that was just the beginning. This past weekend, we spent most of the morning raking up acorns, acorn shells, acorn fragments, and acorn clusters, as well as sweeping them off the deck, fishing them out of the kiddie pool, and combing them out of our hair. The next day we saw that we shouldn't have bothered, because it looked like we hadn't.

But even before that, we had to clear a bunch out of the garden plot. Even if we didn't mind the risk of all our vegetables getting crowded out by a new oak tree, the acorns themselves were becoming an impenetrable carpet. Just as we were wondering why there seemed to be a greater concentration of them in the garden than in the rest of the yard, an angry chittering from next door and twenty feet above cleared it up.

This was Scrat's stash.

Not that figuring that out slowed us down any. We just kept right on, raking double fistfuls out of there and tossing them into the grass. I didn't know a squirrel could make some of those noises. In fact, if I'd been able to concentrate on listening to them without their being drowned out by M. Edium hollering, "SCRAT, QUIT SCOLDING US!" I would be able to curse in squirrel quite fluently right now.

We've cleared it out a few times since then, usually accompanied by M. Edium howling further protests to the trees above, whether they're inhabited at the moment or not.

I'm okay with this, honestly. He'll be five in October, and that's a little old to still be thinking of neighborhood vermin as adorable friends out of a Disney movie. If all goes well, by this time next year he'll be shooting at them.

posted by M. Giant 7:26 PM 0 comments


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