For those of you who have been reading along for a zillions years, I just wanted to let you know I've heard from the Intrepid Pigeon Fighter. He was called in to consult on a new urban animal problem. It's squirrels.
Yes, I said squirrels. He calls them rats with fluffy tails, but I think that's a bit harsh, don't you? It turns out a close friend of his has a massive squirrel infestation in the numerous oak trees surrounding her house. The problem is the squirrels discovered a heated attic was a superior dig to a ball of leaves, mud and spit wedged in the crook of a tree. Isn't that just a big surprise.
It turns out squirrels are terrible tenants. They leave acorn shells everywhere, and don't even get me started on their toilet habits. If you could overlook their sloppy housekeeping and lax attitude toward feces, it's when they get drunk on acorn tannins and binge out on the house wiring which makes these medium sized rodents tenants from hell.
I did a little research, and it turns out the Intepid Pigeon Fighter is scientifically correct: Squirrels are rodents. Their part of the rodent family tree includes marmots, guinea pigs, chipmunks, and prairie dogs. What really surprised me was to discover squirrels have an Air Force - there are ground squirrels, tree squirrels, and flying squirrels. You can recognize the ones who fly since they have those cool flight jackets with little wings pinned to the shoulders. The others are just flight mechanics and control tower geeks. Even if flying squirrels have an element of cool, IPF's friend shouldn't have to share her house with squirrel slobs. I mean, it's not like she advertised on Craig's List for roomies.
The IPF's friend did manage to finally get the original house squirrels evicted, but after the eviction, every time she went outside and looked up into her trees, she could see the squirrels plotting to reinstate themselves in her attic. It was time for drastic measures. She called in the Intrepid Pigeon Fighter for a consultation. First, he suggested she rent a cherry picker and coat the trees with tasty poison. She tactfully pointed out while the squirrels would be toppling dead out of her trees, so would all the birds. She doesn't have a thing against birds.
He made another drastic suggestion: Shoot them out of the trees. He keeps a gun totin', beer drinking buddy on his Rolodex just for emergencies like this. (Yes, I said Rolodex. The Intepid Pigeon Fighter thinks all this silly electronic stuff will eventually fade away, and he'll still have his trusty Rolodex. That's another whole topic - back to the squirrel problem.)
The plan would be for Deadeye to shoot the squirrels out of the trees. He'd do the job just for the cost of the bullets and all the light beers he could drink while shooting. Then, the IPF would jump into action. In his plastic rain poncho and rain pants, with his hands sheathed in a pair of yellow latex kitchen gloves, he would pick up all the dead squirrel bodies and load them into double strength trash bags. Then, it would just be a matter of buying a jumbo sized plot at the local pet cemetery. Whether or not to have a funeral service would be at his friend's discretion. While this would certainly be a squirrel problem solution, the IPF's friend wondered aloud if there might be a tiny little problem with shooting off a gun inside the city limits.
Grudgingly, the Intrepid Pigeon Fighter got on board with his friend's totally unorthodox approach: Humane traps with peanut butter bait paired with re-location. Ten miles from the friend's house is Turkey Mountain. It's a wilderness area which is home to a gorgeous squirrel condominium development. I mean, it's squirrel heaven: large nut bearing trees, moss covered ground which means cushioned landings for their air force, a seasonal swimming pool/ice rink and best of all: no cars. You just can't teach squirrels to look both ways when they cross streets, and a lack of cars cuts down on squirrel funerals. Now, if the squirrels can just get the Pecan Processing Plant they've been negotiating for, Turkey Mountain would be perfect.
This plan does require quite a bit of work. We are talking MAJOR OPERATION: Sneak out in the dead of night to set and bait the trap(s). Up at dawn lurking with binoculars for reconn. And, then, loading any trapped squirrels into her car and driving them to the Turkey Mountain condos. The squirrels are fighting back. They now won't touch bargain basement peanut butter; they've started holding out for organic. And, she had to argue long and hard with the Squirrel Negotiating Committee to obtain the agreement their members wouldn't try to dig up and take all their buried acorns before relocation. It's become a battle of wits, but she's winning.
Having not heard from his friend all summer, the Intrepid Pigeon Fighter was happy to receive a call this week with an update. The friend was crowing she'd relocated 38 squirrels and counting. The Squirrel Negotiating Committee is satisfied with the new Turkey Mountain condos, and they've formed a Welcome Wagon group for the newcomers.
Now, there are plans afoot for the IPF to start a new small business: HAVE SQUIRRELS? WILL RELOCATE. Of course, the Intrepid Pigeon Fighter will need to attach a big plastic squirrel to the top of his car. It's free publicity, baby. I wonder what he's going to do with the big pigeon he usually drives around with.
