No more squirrels frolic around the yard, thanks to the rifle. If they even pass through the yard, it must be before anyone gets up in the morning. In fact, I'm having to take aim at squirrels in other yards' trees.
Like the one I got today.
Things started when I fired from my deck at a squirrel in my neighbor's tree. It either struck him or startled him, because he leaped from a limb about 30 feet up and hit the ground with a thud. I never really saw what became of him, although I figured he had to be a goner. I did notice a rodent going up the same tree, so I figured that must be the same one that jumped.
Later, I walked over by the lake to get a better view of what was in the neighbor's trees, and I noticed probably four up there. One was sprawled out across some narrow branches and I had a view like a bearskin rug. Ready, aim, fire ... no sudden leap, no fall from the heavens ... I thought I'd missed. Until 15 minutes later when I heard crack, crack, and then saw a falling squirrel--not like the one flailing and attempting to land on all fours earlier in the morning--that looked dead already and landed on his side. The neighbor's dog was frightened by the dying/dead squirrel; ironic seeing how the coward barked at and ran squirrels that made a path through his yard.
I did my duty, scooping up the carcass and placing it by the lake. When I came back out after my shower, whatever likes to eat squirrel bodies had already carried it off.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
That Old Ex-Girlfriend and the Rest of Your Rosy Past
Remember that old ex-girlfriend from eons past and how special she was and how you two got along so well and how she was your soulmate? Ah, she was perfect, you were perfect, and you remember so many perfect evenings together. How beautiful life was. You remember so well ...
Do you? Was it?
Unless you had to break it off because she was on the verge of discovering your secret identity as the Masked Superhero of your municipality, it didn't end all that well. In fact, it wasn't always good when you were together. And there were at least a handful of "qualities" that she possessed that you downright despised. And even if the break-up came as a surprise to you and you were still lovestruck so that you couldn't detect faults in her, I got one for ya buddy: she wasn't so into you. You did something, or you were something, that she couldn't handle.
Why do we "remember" the "good old days" as such? Sometimes it's a nice escape from the problems of today. Sometimes instead of watching soap operas, we create them in our mind of how the past might have played out. And it's not like we want OUT of our current, long-running, stable, healthy relationships--it's just more adventurous to imagine ourselves as James Dean on a bike with Marilyn Monroe in tow ... well, with both alive and all.
I had a moment like this Sunday, but no girl was involved. It was a career of mine twice removed that made me long for life back a decade. Before I was a business owner, I was a college sports information director, and before that a high school math teacher. Sunday night was the baccalaureate service at our church, and the last batch of students I taught are graduating this Friday. Hearing some of their words of praise for current and past teachers triggered a nostalgic response in me.
Yes, I longed for the old days of being a mostly unappreciated high school math teacher. You know, the old career was the old girlfriend. Starry-eyed, I imagined going back into the profession to impart my knowledge, to touch lives. "I'd be a much better teacher now, now that I'm a parent, now that I've seen the outside. Just give me one more chance," I begged of the old gal that I had dumped almost five years ago.
Now, why did I dump her again? Was it the low pay or the long hours, or both? Was it the unmotivated student, or his overexpecting parents, or both? Was it the student that wouldn't learn, couldn't learn, or didn't learn that soured it? Was it all the forms and phone calls--administration--or was it the laissez-faire attitude of 1/3 to 1/2 of the class that made me feel like I was wasting my time? Was it kids like Phillip and Patrick and Joni and Nathan and Sara? Were there not enough kids like Trey and Tessa and Cooper and Katie and Daniel and Josh?
I found a nice blog, Rate Your Students, that helped spell it out for me. All the people in the profession who are venting just to maintain their sanity made me realize that my rosy past had thorns as well as blooms. I got more complaints over grades, classroom tactics, and failure to spoon-feed than thank-you notes and pats on the back.
If I may corrupt a Yogi Berra quote (as if a corrupted Yogi Berra quote isn't redundant enough): "The past ain't what it used to be." It's not the way you remember it. Nine out of 10 of you are better off now than you were five years ago. Don't long for the past--it won't catch up with you if you slow down and wait for it. Are you in a new career, a new relationship, a new ANYTHING? Remember why you left the old, and let that be that. The children of Israel, after being released from the slave captivity of Egypt in Exodus, often recalled how "good" things were in their days of captivity. Narrow-minded, willful myopia and a selective memory will make you forget the good choices you made and why you made them, which in turn will make you bitter and discontent in the present.
My good friend Jo Dee Messina said it best in "Bye Bye":
Bye bye love, I'll catch you later
Gotta put my foot down on my accelerator
With the rear view mirror torn off
I ain't never looking back
And that's a fact
We could all stand to tear off some rear view mirrors.
Do you? Was it?
Unless you had to break it off because she was on the verge of discovering your secret identity as the Masked Superhero of your municipality, it didn't end all that well. In fact, it wasn't always good when you were together. And there were at least a handful of "qualities" that she possessed that you downright despised. And even if the break-up came as a surprise to you and you were still lovestruck so that you couldn't detect faults in her, I got one for ya buddy: she wasn't so into you. You did something, or you were something, that she couldn't handle.
Why do we "remember" the "good old days" as such? Sometimes it's a nice escape from the problems of today. Sometimes instead of watching soap operas, we create them in our mind of how the past might have played out. And it's not like we want OUT of our current, long-running, stable, healthy relationships--it's just more adventurous to imagine ourselves as James Dean on a bike with Marilyn Monroe in tow ... well, with both alive and all.
I had a moment like this Sunday, but no girl was involved. It was a career of mine twice removed that made me long for life back a decade. Before I was a business owner, I was a college sports information director, and before that a high school math teacher. Sunday night was the baccalaureate service at our church, and the last batch of students I taught are graduating this Friday. Hearing some of their words of praise for current and past teachers triggered a nostalgic response in me.
Yes, I longed for the old days of being a mostly unappreciated high school math teacher. You know, the old career was the old girlfriend. Starry-eyed, I imagined going back into the profession to impart my knowledge, to touch lives. "I'd be a much better teacher now, now that I'm a parent, now that I've seen the outside. Just give me one more chance," I begged of the old gal that I had dumped almost five years ago.
Now, why did I dump her again? Was it the low pay or the long hours, or both? Was it the unmotivated student, or his overexpecting parents, or both? Was it the student that wouldn't learn, couldn't learn, or didn't learn that soured it? Was it all the forms and phone calls--administration--or was it the laissez-faire attitude of 1/3 to 1/2 of the class that made me feel like I was wasting my time? Was it kids like Phillip and Patrick and Joni and Nathan and Sara? Were there not enough kids like Trey and Tessa and Cooper and Katie and Daniel and Josh?
I found a nice blog, Rate Your Students, that helped spell it out for me. All the people in the profession who are venting just to maintain their sanity made me realize that my rosy past had thorns as well as blooms. I got more complaints over grades, classroom tactics, and failure to spoon-feed than thank-you notes and pats on the back.
If I may corrupt a Yogi Berra quote (as if a corrupted Yogi Berra quote isn't redundant enough): "The past ain't what it used to be." It's not the way you remember it. Nine out of 10 of you are better off now than you were five years ago. Don't long for the past--it won't catch up with you if you slow down and wait for it. Are you in a new career, a new relationship, a new ANYTHING? Remember why you left the old, and let that be that. The children of Israel, after being released from the slave captivity of Egypt in Exodus, often recalled how "good" things were in their days of captivity. Narrow-minded, willful myopia and a selective memory will make you forget the good choices you made and why you made them, which in turn will make you bitter and discontent in the present.
My good friend Jo Dee Messina said it best in "Bye Bye":
Bye bye love, I'll catch you later
Gotta put my foot down on my accelerator
With the rear view mirror torn off
I ain't never looking back
And that's a fact
We could all stand to tear off some rear view mirrors.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Call me Chuck Connors
One down, one million to go. Beginner's luck maybe, but I got my first kill this morning.
As that little rodent ascended to the top of my neighbor's fence, I took aim with my Crosman air rifle, got him in the crosshairs, and pulled the trigger with the barrel resting against the deck crossbar. Pow! He jumped about a foot into the air, and I'm thinking I just scared the critter. Not the case. He climbed back up the fence, jumped to my fence, ran about ten feet and then toppled over into my yard. It was the type of fall a stuntman would take in the old westerns after being shot off a balcony. He fell between the fence and the outdoor storage building, and when I rushed down to see what had become of him, he was not there. He went about another 20 feet, I guess hoping to hide and recover from whatever just struck him . As I neared him, he did not run, so I knew I had delivered what was probably a lethal blow. With the aid of a garden spade, I broke the creature's neck to end his suffering. Upon moving the body out to the water's edge for the rest of nature to feast on, I saw that I had struck him between the third and fourth rib, likely piercing his heart.
It was pretty freaking cool. I had anticipated missing, missing, missing, and then finally grazing a squirrel. I figured I'd need to adjust the scope and shoot at some targets to really fine-tune this pellet gun, but no.
By the way, we haven't seen any more squirrels at all today. Same as when the first casualty went down to the rat trap. I'm almost sad that I haven't had anything else to shoot at.
As that little rodent ascended to the top of my neighbor's fence, I took aim with my Crosman air rifle, got him in the crosshairs, and pulled the trigger with the barrel resting against the deck crossbar. Pow! He jumped about a foot into the air, and I'm thinking I just scared the critter. Not the case. He climbed back up the fence, jumped to my fence, ran about ten feet and then toppled over into my yard. It was the type of fall a stuntman would take in the old westerns after being shot off a balcony. He fell between the fence and the outdoor storage building, and when I rushed down to see what had become of him, he was not there. He went about another 20 feet, I guess hoping to hide and recover from whatever just struck him . As I neared him, he did not run, so I knew I had delivered what was probably a lethal blow. With the aid of a garden spade, I broke the creature's neck to end his suffering. Upon moving the body out to the water's edge for the rest of nature to feast on, I saw that I had struck him between the third and fourth rib, likely piercing his heart.
It was pretty freaking cool. I had anticipated missing, missing, missing, and then finally grazing a squirrel. I figured I'd need to adjust the scope and shoot at some targets to really fine-tune this pellet gun, but no.
By the way, we haven't seen any more squirrels at all today. Same as when the first casualty went down to the rat trap. I'm almost sad that I haven't had anything else to shoot at.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Number One
Welcome to my very first blog ever. Not THE first blog ever, just my first blog ever.
I tend to get started on everything computer-related a little late. But hey, at least I start, right? I got my first taste of Windows (3.1) around 1995, the Internet around 1997, and designing websites in 1998. I entered the world of serious website design--the phase where I began to get high profile clients and not just churches and mom-n-pop places, the phase where I was reaching my target niche of college athletic departments--around 2003.
I found the career that I thought was going to be my calling for the rest of my life--college athletics sports information & media relations--when I was 29. Sheesh, I was married for eight years before becoming a father. Maybe I get into everything a little late. (Ok, don't read too much into that last one.)
I can still remember the conversation I had with the Maestro back in '98. He told me about the website that he had started weeks earlier, and that I should make a website.
ME: "Why would I want to build a website? I don't have anything to say."
And now I'm blogging. I guess I found something to say.
That would've been a great place to stop, but if this is going to be a substantial blog, then there should be a real topic for each post. This one is going to talk about my latest preoccupation: ridding my yard of squirrels.
We bought our place at the end of February, and really love it. Nice fenced backyard, man-made lake out back, sort of on the cusp of "in the woods" but with a four-lane busy highway 300 yards away. When we first got here, those little squirrels looked sooo cute running along the fences, hanging out on our deck, jumping from tree to tree.
And then we started landscaping. And they started tearing up the landscaping. It was like Japan bombing Pearl Harbor. War had been declared.
Now the previous tenants--your run-of-the-mill, tree-hugging, recycling, "our-dogs-are-our-kids" sort of people--probably learned to be "at one" with the squirrels. I'm more of an Andrew Jackson or Teddy Roosevelt type. If something's in your way, you move it or go over it. You don't learn to live with little annoyances in life with a "Serenity Now" chant; you change the things that can be changed.
I don't know if squirrels in my backyard is something that can be changed, but I'm giving it the old college try. And I'm beginning to ramp it up quickly:
I tend to get started on everything computer-related a little late. But hey, at least I start, right? I got my first taste of Windows (3.1) around 1995, the Internet around 1997, and designing websites in 1998. I entered the world of serious website design--the phase where I began to get high profile clients and not just churches and mom-n-pop places, the phase where I was reaching my target niche of college athletic departments--around 2003.
I found the career that I thought was going to be my calling for the rest of my life--college athletics sports information & media relations--when I was 29. Sheesh, I was married for eight years before becoming a father. Maybe I get into everything a little late. (Ok, don't read too much into that last one.)
I can still remember the conversation I had with the Maestro back in '98. He told me about the website that he had started weeks earlier, and that I should make a website.
ME: "Why would I want to build a website? I don't have anything to say."
And now I'm blogging. I guess I found something to say.
That would've been a great place to stop, but if this is going to be a substantial blog, then there should be a real topic for each post. This one is going to talk about my latest preoccupation: ridding my yard of squirrels.
We bought our place at the end of February, and really love it. Nice fenced backyard, man-made lake out back, sort of on the cusp of "in the woods" but with a four-lane busy highway 300 yards away. When we first got here, those little squirrels looked sooo cute running along the fences, hanging out on our deck, jumping from tree to tree.
And then we started landscaping. And they started tearing up the landscaping. It was like Japan bombing Pearl Harbor. War had been declared.
Now the previous tenants--your run-of-the-mill, tree-hugging, recycling, "our-dogs-are-our-kids" sort of people--probably learned to be "at one" with the squirrels. I'm more of an Andrew Jackson or Teddy Roosevelt type. If something's in your way, you move it or go over it. You don't learn to live with little annoyances in life with a "Serenity Now" chant; you change the things that can be changed.
I don't know if squirrels in my backyard is something that can be changed, but I'm giving it the old college try. And I'm beginning to ramp it up quickly:
- Run out the door and go "shoo squirrel, shoo." Now, that's only effective if I'm about 10 feet from the critters, and then I could be completely mute and they'd run.
- Throw a collection of larger pieces of gravel collected down by the water at them. Pretty effective in scaring them away IF you happen to hit within about six inches of them. I've managed that all of twice.
- Rat traps. NOW we're getting somewhere. One kill and several near misses, and the near misses scare the living acorns outta these animals. That's pretty satisfying to see one leave the yard in what could best be described as the fast-motion sequence at the end of Benny Hill episodes. But only one kill out of, what, 100 squirrels?
- Air rifle. Just bought it Saturday and have only fired two pellets. Squirrels now run when I open the door, so I can't get a good shot unless I'm already out there. Plus, unless I suddenly morph into Chuck Connors, I'm going to miss more than I hit.
- Ancient Chinese secret. My online search for ways to rid yards of squirrels yielded remedies such as fox pee (can't wait to explain that one on the credit card statement), suggestions on how to hang a bird feeder to keep squirrels out (but I can't put MY WHOLE YARD on a slippery pole), the aformentioned pellet gun, and the ever-so-humane catch-and-release traps. Yeah, if I got one of those suckers to walk into my trap, I would probably terrorize it with power tools in the garage until it perished of heart failure. But I didn't use any of those (except the rifle).
What I did use from the Internet is a twist on a recipe I saw on a Canada Reader's Digest site. My version calls for a whole onion, a clove of garlic, about an ounce of cayenne pepper, a tablespoon of dishwashing liquid, and as much water as I could top off the blender with. I didn't have any Tabasco sauce, but I can't imagine Tabasco making this product much more vile. I took the top off the blender and the aroma almost took my top off. Potent is not a strong enough adjective to use for this concoction. And trust the author: no matter how much you liquefy, this junk will not spray out of any type of container. Its texture is pretty much like you eating spaghettios and then vomiting into a spray bottle.
I was conflicted on using it to start with. On one hand, I would like nothing better than to "cap" one of these rodents, yet at the same time I'm attempting to keep them away. I'll report back on how effective this toxic vomit is. Or let you know if I'm any good behind a trigger.
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