I woke up at 2am to scratching and squabbling on top of the attic fan. Damn squirrels. They share our house - heck, they were here before us. But dang-it, they rudely decided to have a Vermin Rave on a work night. I sat there listening to them get hopped up on acorn juice or whatever. It sounded like there was a whole mob up there, their little grey bodies writhing to a primitive rodent beat. The big owl who lives outside our back window started asking: "who, who?" as if he was a stone cold hit man looking for a contract. I told him: " the damned squirrels, that's who - kill 'em". But he didn't seem to understand - or maybe the squirrels are part of his posse - he just kept asking "who, who?".
It would seem to me that in a world of infinite diversity where every niche is filled and the dance of nature is finely balanced that some evolutionary process or intelligent designer would have come up with a squirrel species that doesn't like to party at 2am on Thursday mornings 8 feet above my head.
I'm going to see if I can put a contract out on 'em with the red tailed hawk that lives in the front yard - he's less sentimental.
Bloody tree rats.