How many times have you said to yourself, “I really hate squirrels!” Many. It’s no surprise. Squirrels have always been man’s mortal enemies. We don’t like their smug attitude and they have bad breath. As a child, I was tormented by the neighborhood squirrels, and many times ran home crying, pursued by an angry gang of them, baring their teeth.
Squirrels are rats with a feather boa for a tail, the professional wrestlers of the rodent world. I was rudely awaken one morning by one of these nasty critters. He (I could see his underside) was climbing my window screen, making noises and showing off for his homeboys still high up in the tree branches.
As you would imagine, Mr. Squirrel was up to no good. He was gonna bury a big fat nut in the dirt that is home to my potted plants. That bastard. I’m always rescuing the tender potted plants after their roots have been laid bare to the sun by the squirrels. Enraged, I leapt out of bed, stormed out the back door, and shook my angry fist in his direction. Hatred, frustration, and fear had pushed me to the edge of sanity. The retreating squirrel looked shaken, but before long others would surely return with more nuts to bury.
I needed a solution, a permanent assurance that my garden would be safe. That’s when I decided to ply my fiercest weapon against nature – intelligence.
My first thought was to co-opt the squirrels, just like the cats. Every day, a plate of mixed nuts would be placed outside, for them to snack on. Once they’d gotten the idea, they’d realize it’s much easier to rely on my handouts than to obey their “natural instincts.” They win, I win. Right? Wrong. Bitter experience with the cats told me the squirrels wouldn’t really appreciate all my nurturing. They’d probably sell the nuts to other squirrels elsewhere, and go on digging up the potted plants.
What else could I do? Cooking? Typing? JavaScript? Curses! My superpowers would be useless in this battle. I strategized, did some soul searching, considered elaborate booby traps, dangerous schemes involving electricity, then, one day, I arrived at a simple strategy.
Drawing inspiration from President Clinton’s missile shield technology. I went to the hardware store and bought three square feet of metal-wire mesh. The gaps in the weave were large enough to allow a branch or leaf to poke through and absorb sunlight. I cut and bent and shaped the wire, poked myself in the finger a few times for good luck, then stuck the wire shield into the soil around the plants. Thus was born, squirrel.net.
The tables have turned in the urban wild kingdom. Many a lazy morn now do I while away watching squirrel after squirrel try unsuccessfully to bury his nut booty. One or two of them notice me and the satisfied grin on my face and shoot a dirty look in my direction. I don’t mind. For the moment, man has scored a victory against squirrel.