Thursday, March 31, 2011

Look Boris! It's Rocket J. Squirrel!


The best part of my mornings (and it's not with Folger's) ... 
is

coffee, the newspaper and tuning into The Today show.
That's the routine.

Everyday.

Except for Saturday and Sunday.

On those days, The Professor and I go to one of two places for
pancakes, eggs benedict and the New York Times.

A treat from the daily grapefruit and turkey bacon diet.

I treasure those morning moments and can get rather
*cranky* if interrupted.


This is my favorite mug.  
We've been together for 15 years.  I used to have two, but, alas, the second chipped on the rim and now has a second life as my pencil holder.  I just love the way my finger fits in the handle and how my thumb rests on the smooth polished top.

Perfect.

Just perfect.

And this morning was starting off just perfect

Until.

I looked out my kitchen window and saw that 
Bullwinkle's pal, 
Rocket J. Squirrel, had dropped by.

Uninvited.


And he brought along some of his Friends

like Friend #1


And Friend #2


And Friend #3


 I don't mind a little bit of Rocky Squirrel company, but with friends,
things are getting waaaayyyyyy out of hand.

Besides, my feathered friends were
raising a ruckus at their greediness.

So I put my coffee and paper aside
(*crankiness beginning to set in*)
and went outside like any
crazed blogging writer woman, clapping my hands wildly
and shoo shoo shooing them 

up a tree

only to my other feeders.

After about my 10th trip outside,
coffee gone cold 
and paper unread,
I gave up

and let them have their way.


Rocky Squirrel paused, waiting for me to return,
and then 


 he and his cousins partied down

that is, upside down


and feasted the rest of the morning.

Later, when I discovered all the feeders
had been knocked to the ground and emptied,
I needed help.

So off to Lowe's I went.

And found this.

Corn on the cob!

Especially made for squirrels!

 Who knew?

I grew up on a farm and we NEVER fed the squirrels. 
A horse picture on the bag, that I get.

I guess some marketing guru found a pent up demand for
squirrel corn on the cob.  And you know,
those people do a lot of research, so surely this will fix my problem!


Feeling superior at finding a solution, I hurried home, ripped open the bag
and threw a few ears out under the trees.

And watched
and waited
from my office window.

My superiority was short lived.

They checked the corn out
and chewed on it
a bit.

Stopped,
looked around
and then
proceeded to climb
back up the trees to my
freshly filled feeders.

And dine.


Oh, Rocket J. Squirrel,


How you bring out the Natasha
in me.


I may have to recruit The Professor and engage
our alter egos,
 Boris and Natasha,
hiding from
the tops of trees throwing knives and bombs down at you.


But before I resort to such violence,
I'll turn to Google. 

Surely they will have an answer
on how to outsmart Rocket J. Squirrel
and Friends.

And I can return to my
coffee, newspaper and The Today Show
without turning into a cranky,
arm-flailing squirrel chasing blogger.

Until tomorrow,
Rocky!

~

missing the mom gene

1 comment:

Snappy Di said...

We had to put our bird feeder on a pole out in the middle of the yard far from the trees and put a flange on the bottom so the squirrels can't reach the feeder even if they do climb the pole... pesky critters... Hubby calls them tree rats.

DI