It’s raining men! Halilu…wait, no it’s not. It most certainly is not raining men. It’s raining squirrels.
Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.
So, I really do enjoy animal conservation, but I prefer to do it through my hunting tags not rescuing all the animals that have been landing on my doorstep quite literally here lately.
Here’s the story of one of the newest orphan(s). We will get there with the (s), hang tight.
I usually keep some of my seasonal friends’ flowers and plants until they return in the fall. I was doing some routine maintenance on them and as I rounded the corner of my RV to get in the shade to work, there he was, lying flat on his belly in the grass and I froze. After the few seconds it took for my brain to catch up to what was happening, meh…it happens…a lot, I realized his little lungs were breathing and his little heart was beating. Then all of a sudden, he lifted his tiny head toward me. And I said, “Ah great, his eyes aren’t even open yet.”
Where is my sister Kelcy when shit like this happens? She was the one rescuing mice that the barn cats had assaulted when we were growing up. I thought she had lost her mind every time she would bring one inside to “save.” The ones she was unable to resuscitate she would bury them out by the field in one of our parents’ old checkbook boxes. Remember those? Everyone in the 80’s used to keep them like we keep iPhone boxes now. A perfect little coffin for a tiny rodent.
So, I set the plants down and walk over to him, I knelt down and picked him up. He scratched and clawed his way up my arm so fast I thought, well Barber, now you’ve done it. You tried to do the right thing, and a blind baby squirrel is inches away from biting your face right off. Sounds about right for me.
Lessons, why are they always so hard for me to learn?
I put him in a makeshift cage and called the nearest wildlife rehab facility. And of course, they took him in. But not after a volunteer was douchy about rehabbing a tiny squirrel. It’s literally what you do, you asshole. Any guesses how that conversation went over? Yep, you got it, like a turd in a punch bowl.
Maybe lessons are hard for that animal rehabber too.
I drop him off and go about my daily life.
The end.
Wouldn’t it be funny if that was the end of this story, but alas, it’s never over without at least one more thing happening.
Fast forward 7 days, Roxy and I pull into the driveway after our morning walk and a quick trip to the bank. I gather everything up only to throw it right back down on the ground when I got out of the car.
ANOTHER tiny squirrel was baking in the FL sun by my driveway. My first thought was, “You have got to be kidding me.” He was tinnier and much weaker than the other one, so he didn’t freak out when I picked him up. I threw him in the cooler, yes, a cooler because I was fresh out of squirrel cages, and off to the rehab place we go. I was gearing up for round 2 with the dickhead rehabber on the way there and I was ready. And wouldn’t you know it? He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, staring at me as he sent out a nice young man to collect my cargo. Bummer. I was really looking forward to another interaction with him.
Anyway, they will rehab them and release them far, far away. So, not to worry neighbors, they will not be destroying any of our awning toppers like that piece of shit squirrel did last winter.
So, in the theme of saving wild game, I might work on another story about all the animals that the Gentleman at the park has roped me in to rescuing over the last few months. He finds them and calls me to rescue them and then he says “we” saved them. Come again? I certainly don’t have a mouse in my pocket (or checkbook box), sir. And G has, by the way, graduated from scaring the shit out of me and has now resorted to shooting me the moon. So that’s fun. Go back and read https://beautyshopdropout.com/whats-on-your-mind/ on the Gentleman’s backstory.
But before I go, I just have to vent a little. I get so irritated by the shit I read online and human behavior as a whole. More times than not, it keeps me from publishing a story I’ve already written or have a rough draft of to continue on. I try to play it safe, try to be all inclusive, not offend anyone. But I think I’ve hit my limit with that. (See animal rehabber above.) My online presence is very neutral, most of my acquaintances in real life are very vanilla. I am very private. My little circle of friends and family know I could not give one shit less about your opinions of me or what I say or do. Hell, some of them have even been on the receiving end of when I’ve had enough judgement. So, don’t be an asshole and if you are, don’t come crying back to me after I’ve hurt your feelings. There. All better now.
So, if you have made it this far, enjoy some photos and videos of my favorite place to hunt in IN. It really is a peaceful paradise and always recharges me. I understand why my dad loved it so much too. Maybe I’ll go up for deer season and conserve animals the other right way to do it.
Mason and Roxy were so little! ❤️ Sorry for the music iMovie picked it and it sucks.
If people are pissing you off as much as they are me, check out some recommended books. It’s my new thing here lately. It can’t hurt to laugh a little or a lot right now. With people that aren’t assholes.
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