I've discussed my issues with squirrels before. They aren't to be trusted. The move too quickly and jerk about in crazy motions. They can climb fences and trees and dig holes, so I am sure they have sharp claws. They just freak me out, especially when I pass a tree and see one hanging vertically onto the jagged bark watching my every move in perfect stillness.
This morning, I went outside to bid my precious dog, Buddy Love, a good day and to fold up my mattress cover that had been hung to dry over the rail of the deck. As I pulled the cover up, I looked down to the concrete below and saw a gruesome sight ~ a headless, very dead squirrel. Very dead. Stiff as the boards on the fence he used to climb with his little sharp squirrelly claws. And did you catch the headless part?
I don't want to be too grotesque, but I must stress that the entire head of the squirrel was gone. No beady eyes. No tiny ears. No mouth. No cheeks. No neck. Gone. All that remained of the head was a nub of the bone protruding from where the neck once was.
I nearly lost my breakfast. Well, maybe just my coffee... I don't think I'd eaten breakfast yet.
I had to compose myself, and I had to do it fast so I could clean up the carcass before the kids saw it. The last thing I need is two kids in the bed with me due to nightmares about a headless squirrel. I will probably be up all night myself thinking not necessarily about the headless squirrel but about the fact that it was my precious Buddy Love that decapitated him. The biggest question swimming laps in my head was where is the head? Surely I'd find it in the yard... in the grass somewhere.
First things first ~ squirrel disposal. I don't how many of you have had to scoop a dead squirrel up with a shovel, but I promise you, it's no easy feat. Whether still floppy or completely rigamortis, getting it in the shovel and keeping it there proves itself incredibly difficult. I tried not to look at Mr. Headless any more than I had to, and I prayed silently, over and over, "Please don't let me drop him... please don't let me drop him..." as I carried him through the back gate and laid him to rest in the brush under the line of trees behind our house.
Step two ~ find missing head. A huge part of me didn't want to find the squirrel head, but this other part of me (like the one who loves my dog, pets his sweet head, hugs him and gives him kisses and calls him my darlin') wanted to find it and along with a tiny guillotine built by the colony of squirrels to embark punishment for some little squirrelly crime. I wanted to know that the squirrel head was not Buddy's desert last night. So I searched the yard over like crazy, picking up dog poo-poo as I went along. Though I successfully found and conquered several piles of doody, I found no random squirrel parts in the yard.
Though I am not an overly educated woman, I can safely deduce that I will be scooping up very odd looking piles of body waste in the days to come. It's nothing new... I've seen weird piles in the yard before. I try not to study the piles too closely. Scoop them up and toss them over the fence to become one with the earth.
Buddy was lying by the door on top of the deck this morning; it's his most favorite place for napping. I heard an awful howl... like one of those women on TLC with a birthing tub, a doola, and no epidural. I noticed it was Buddy, and he was deep asleep. So deep that I startled him when I opened the door to check on him. He jumped up and immediately started wagging his tail, so I figured he must have been chasing a squirrel in his dream. I had to tell him, as I pet his sweet little darlin' head, that if he chose to eat squirrel heads, he'd have bad dreams. Kinda like eating pork or Mexican food too late at night. One has to decide for them self whether it's worth the risk or not...
I hope we won't be adding squirrel head to our weekly menu.