Flashback Friday!
First, I want to say that I really appreciate everyone's thoughtful comments, advise, and prayers/energy/vibes. It's getting better. The PMS is easing up. That may be the biggest factor. It's gonna be a rough week or so, but I'll get through it. I know that the things I am dealing with are, by themselves, not big things, but heaped together, they've made an impressive mound. Anyway, I'm trudging through it. Dealing with what life is throwing at me. And thanking (profusely) whatever entity in the universe sent Highlander to me. (Oh, wait, I totally went and got him, didn't I?) Anyway, thanks again to all of you and know that I'm hanging tough!
So, how about a little Flashback Friday? Time to shake off the sad and try to get things around here back to normal. Well, as normal as they get around here, anyway.
The other day, we were all kind of kicking around the house. My oldest working on an anime' music video she's creating on her laptop. My middle girl cooking dinner for the fam. (She'd been bragging to Highlander that she was as good a cook as her dear old mom, and wanted to prove it to him.) Little Bit climbing on the living room furniture and tumbling back off again. She asked me if she could open the blinds on the big living room windows, so she could look out onto the sunny day. It had been rather cool, and she was recovering from a respiratory infection, so I wasn't anxious for her to get out in it, but it was rather pretty to look at.
She lifted the blinds and seated on the other side of the windowsill was a squirrel. The storm window was not in and he was just on the other side of the glass, eating an old bagel, and looking in at us. To say it freaked me out a little, would be pretty accurate. Likely because of something that happened to me 16 years ago. Cue flashback...
When I was relatively newly married, my (then) husband worked a job where he travelled out of town a great deal. Generally, five days...sometimes seven days...every week. We rented a tiny old shotgun house in a quirky neighborhood. We had two cats (Oscar and Kaboodle) and one 6 month old baby girl. It was a strange little house, but it was fine for us.
My first clue that something was wrong with the house, that fall, was the cats' behavior. They'd be snoozing on the couch one minute and then they'd jump up and take off chasing some invisible being in the wall. While I thought it was odd, I mostly just thought it was that the cats were weird. (Which wasn't anything new.) A couple weeks into this unusual behavior and I started to hear a noise in the walls.
A scurrying noise. ::shudder:: Whatever it was, it sounded entirely too big to be a mouse. ::gulp:: And despite the cats making me feel pretty confident that if, whatever it was, came out of the wall, they'd take care of it in short order, I still didn't like it one bit!!
Within a week or so of hearing the first noises, we noticed a small hole outside in the soffit under our roof at the front of the house. And a squirrel going in and out. As it was November, we figured the squirrel was storing nuts in there and making a place for winter. I liked squirrels well enough at the time, but the thought of hearing that noise in the walls for months was simply not appealing.
I was working at one of the larger heating and cooling companies in town at the time, and when I went in to work the next day, I ventured back into the sheet metal shop and liberated a piece of scrap. The plan was to put it over the hole, when the squirrel was out, so that he/she couldn't get back in. Sure, Mr. Bushytail would have to find a new locale and would lose some food stores, but he wasn't paying the rent...we were!
The following Sunday, my ex climbed up on the roof, after we'd seen not one, but two, squirrels depart (and listened to make sure there were no others still within), and screwed in the piece of metal. Much rejoicing followed, as we were pleased that we would not have to hear the sounds of squirrels chasing each other in the walls (or attic) again. Hooray!! If only the story could end there.
Very early the next morning, my (then) husband left to go back out of town for the week, and I got kiddo #1 ready for daycare and headed out into my work day. Again, as I often was in my younger (and much less jaded) days, unaware of what was in store for me.
My regular routine involved picking up the baby from daycare, heading home, feeding both of us, cleaning her up, playing a little and then off to bed for both of us. As I pulled the car into the parking space in the back yard, I didn't notice the squirrel sitting on the edge of the roof over our backdoor. I got the baby (and her many, many acoutements) out of the car and started walking across the backyard. As I got closer, I could see the squirrel.
Don't ask me how, but I knew it was the female. She just had this look about her. I could just tell. And she stopped me in my tracks. Literally.
She was staring intently at me and my baby. The edges of her mouth smeared with what appeared to be BLOOD. And she had positioned herself on the overhang directly above where I would have to enter the house. Coincidental? I think not. But she wasn't moving. I was trying not to scare the baby and was saying things like "Look, Baby, at the squirrel. Do you see the squirrel. It wants to eat us allllll up. It's a bad mommy squirrel. It's very mad at us." But saying it calmly and a little sing-songy like you do when you talk to babies. Trying not to scare her when I was terrified.
And then the squirrel started making this clicking noise that freaked me out even more. When she started beating her chest like an ape I tore out of there. Okay, she didn't do that last thing, but I was pretty damned scared anyway!! I didn't want to stay outside, but I was terrified to walk under her. If she jumped down on me or the baby, I didn't know what I'd do. I kept staring at her. She kept staring at me. And, let me tell you, you cannot outstare a homicidal squirrel. No way. Can't be done.
It was clear that she wasn't going anywhere. She had a piece of her mind that she wanted to give me. And then, of course, she wanted to eat me alive. So, I eased, a few steps at a time, towards the back door. And finally after about 10 minutes, was able to get into my back door.
After a couple hours, when I'd mustered up a little courage (and figured she'd have given up and gone wherever), I walked out back. No squirrel...whew! I looked out front and noticed that the place in the soffit with the sheet metal, where the hole had been, was gnarled. She must have worked for hours biting through the adjacent wood and pulling at the sharp edges of the sheet metal with her teeth and claws. Her bloody face haunted me. There were babies, you see. She had babies in there. That's why she had worked so hard to get that hole opened back up. That's why she was so damned mad at me.
The thoughts of her knowing that her babies were trapped in there behind a metal plate and that she had to get them out. Had to. Oh, it's still so very upsetting to me.
But we didn't know. Really. I thought squirrels only had babies in the spring. I didn't know they had babies in the fall, too. And I certainly didn't know there were baby squirrels in the attic when we covered that hole.
I felt terrible. Guilty, most of all. But I honestly didn't know that we were sealing her babies up in a tomb. And I didn't mean for her to get hurt either.
Watching squirrels play used to be fun. Chasing each other up a tree or walking across the top of a fence. Even just sitting and cracking open a nut. Very cute stuff. And it still is most of the time, I suppose. There are those times, though, when they get a little close to me, and it just brings that memory of the Mama Squirrel, all mad and bloody and cussing me out righteously, flooding right back. With spring upon us, they're everywhere. Everywhere. And it's freaking me out.
So, how about a little Flashback Friday? Time to shake off the sad and try to get things around here back to normal. Well, as normal as they get around here, anyway.
The other day, we were all kind of kicking around the house. My oldest working on an anime' music video she's creating on her laptop. My middle girl cooking dinner for the fam. (She'd been bragging to Highlander that she was as good a cook as her dear old mom, and wanted to prove it to him.) Little Bit climbing on the living room furniture and tumbling back off again. She asked me if she could open the blinds on the big living room windows, so she could look out onto the sunny day. It had been rather cool, and she was recovering from a respiratory infection, so I wasn't anxious for her to get out in it, but it was rather pretty to look at.
She lifted the blinds and seated on the other side of the windowsill was a squirrel. The storm window was not in and he was just on the other side of the glass, eating an old bagel, and looking in at us. To say it freaked me out a little, would be pretty accurate. Likely because of something that happened to me 16 years ago. Cue flashback...
When I was relatively newly married, my (then) husband worked a job where he travelled out of town a great deal. Generally, five days...sometimes seven days...every week. We rented a tiny old shotgun house in a quirky neighborhood. We had two cats (Oscar and Kaboodle) and one 6 month old baby girl. It was a strange little house, but it was fine for us.
My first clue that something was wrong with the house, that fall, was the cats' behavior. They'd be snoozing on the couch one minute and then they'd jump up and take off chasing some invisible being in the wall. While I thought it was odd, I mostly just thought it was that the cats were weird. (Which wasn't anything new.) A couple weeks into this unusual behavior and I started to hear a noise in the walls.
A scurrying noise. ::shudder:: Whatever it was, it sounded entirely too big to be a mouse. ::gulp:: And despite the cats making me feel pretty confident that if, whatever it was, came out of the wall, they'd take care of it in short order, I still didn't like it one bit!!
Within a week or so of hearing the first noises, we noticed a small hole outside in the soffit under our roof at the front of the house. And a squirrel going in and out. As it was November, we figured the squirrel was storing nuts in there and making a place for winter. I liked squirrels well enough at the time, but the thought of hearing that noise in the walls for months was simply not appealing.
I was working at one of the larger heating and cooling companies in town at the time, and when I went in to work the next day, I ventured back into the sheet metal shop and liberated a piece of scrap. The plan was to put it over the hole, when the squirrel was out, so that he/she couldn't get back in. Sure, Mr. Bushytail would have to find a new locale and would lose some food stores, but he wasn't paying the rent...we were!
The following Sunday, my ex climbed up on the roof, after we'd seen not one, but two, squirrels depart (and listened to make sure there were no others still within), and screwed in the piece of metal. Much rejoicing followed, as we were pleased that we would not have to hear the sounds of squirrels chasing each other in the walls (or attic) again. Hooray!! If only the story could end there.
Very early the next morning, my (then) husband left to go back out of town for the week, and I got kiddo #1 ready for daycare and headed out into my work day. Again, as I often was in my younger (and much less jaded) days, unaware of what was in store for me.
My regular routine involved picking up the baby from daycare, heading home, feeding both of us, cleaning her up, playing a little and then off to bed for both of us. As I pulled the car into the parking space in the back yard, I didn't notice the squirrel sitting on the edge of the roof over our backdoor. I got the baby (and her many, many acoutements) out of the car and started walking across the backyard. As I got closer, I could see the squirrel.
Don't ask me how, but I knew it was the female. She just had this look about her. I could just tell. And she stopped me in my tracks. Literally.
She was staring intently at me and my baby. The edges of her mouth smeared with what appeared to be BLOOD. And she had positioned herself on the overhang directly above where I would have to enter the house. Coincidental? I think not. But she wasn't moving. I was trying not to scare the baby and was saying things like "Look, Baby, at the squirrel. Do you see the squirrel. It wants to eat us allllll up. It's a bad mommy squirrel. It's very mad at us." But saying it calmly and a little sing-songy like you do when you talk to babies. Trying not to scare her when I was terrified.
And then the squirrel started making this clicking noise that freaked me out even more. When she started beating her chest like an ape I tore out of there. Okay, she didn't do that last thing, but I was pretty damned scared anyway!! I didn't want to stay outside, but I was terrified to walk under her. If she jumped down on me or the baby, I didn't know what I'd do. I kept staring at her. She kept staring at me. And, let me tell you, you cannot outstare a homicidal squirrel. No way. Can't be done.
It was clear that she wasn't going anywhere. She had a piece of her mind that she wanted to give me. And then, of course, she wanted to eat me alive. So, I eased, a few steps at a time, towards the back door. And finally after about 10 minutes, was able to get into my back door.
After a couple hours, when I'd mustered up a little courage (and figured she'd have given up and gone wherever), I walked out back. No squirrel...whew! I looked out front and noticed that the place in the soffit with the sheet metal, where the hole had been, was gnarled. She must have worked for hours biting through the adjacent wood and pulling at the sharp edges of the sheet metal with her teeth and claws. Her bloody face haunted me. There were babies, you see. She had babies in there. That's why she had worked so hard to get that hole opened back up. That's why she was so damned mad at me.
The thoughts of her knowing that her babies were trapped in there behind a metal plate and that she had to get them out. Had to. Oh, it's still so very upsetting to me.
But we didn't know. Really. I thought squirrels only had babies in the spring. I didn't know they had babies in the fall, too. And I certainly didn't know there were baby squirrels in the attic when we covered that hole.
I felt terrible. Guilty, most of all. But I honestly didn't know that we were sealing her babies up in a tomb. And I didn't mean for her to get hurt either.
Watching squirrels play used to be fun. Chasing each other up a tree or walking across the top of a fence. Even just sitting and cracking open a nut. Very cute stuff. And it still is most of the time, I suppose. There are those times, though, when they get a little close to me, and it just brings that memory of the Mama Squirrel, all mad and bloody and cussing me out righteously, flooding right back. With spring upon us, they're everywhere. Everywhere. And it's freaking me out.
Labels: Flashback Friday
posted by SuperWife | 8:11 AM
6 Comments:
Beautifully written piece, love, as always. You've told me this story before, but you really brought it home to me in text. Lovely detail.
As always, the thought that a squirrel is intelligent enough to actually figure out who to blame for something like that, and to remember it long enough to exhibit that kind of grudge, just messes with my head. Who knows how smart all these critters around us are, whose banal non-sentience we take utterly for granted as we either ignore or exploit them heinously for our own desires? Food for thought indeed.
However smart that squirrel was, however, I'm still not giving up beef. I've done my time on dairy farms, and will testify before the Throne of God, cows are STUPID.
Chickens are pretty dumb, too.
But not turkeys. At least wild ones. We live in gobbler territory up here. One day husband was pulling weeds and called me outside to watch as twelve chicks pranced through our yard, flanked by Mama and Papa, and disappeared into the brush separating us from our neighbor's. I shuddered to think of our neighbor on the other side, the hunter, proud as hell of his giant stuffed turkey and the "trophy" he'd started to build of the beards from each of his kills. At least he eats what he takes, so I can reconcile it. Having lived an entire winter off donated venison one year when I barely had enough money for rent helped me reconcile it, too. But I really hoped not to see any part of those babies wind up on my neighbor's wall. Or on his table.
But that's not my story.
Living in the woods we've had to wrangle all sorts of wildlife out of our garage - possums, neighborhood cats, hummingbirds (that was a fun one), but I'd never had to deal with a bat. I made that find at a friend's wedding in Binghamton. It had been one of those weddings that was going wrong every which way possible - the bride-to-be's parents hated the groom because he is ten years older than their darling daughter and didn't have a job, the bride is kind of a control freak to begin with and she was in major Bridezilla mode, I came down with a mysterious virus the day before that caused me to break out in purple spots that sent my doctor to a reference book (that never inspires much confidence), but we couldn't skip out because pretty much we were the only ones on the groom's side (he didn't have much family) and husband and I offered to be the photographers. Anyway...the camera broke...the food was awful...if looks would kill the mother of the bride would be arrested for serial murder...but when the dancing started at least I thought everyone would kind of chill out and start to have fun regardless. Or at least start drinking copiously. Toward the end of the evening, I went to the ladies' room and heard a chirping sound. I assumed it was a cricket. Oh, how wonderful, I thought something that can salvage this day, because crickets are supposed to bring good luck. The noise was coming from the garbage can. I lifted the lid to check and there he was. Teeth bared, chirping away. I'm not all girly about creepy crawly things, but bats really freak me out. I jammed the lid back on and ran out for help. I was able to surrepetitiously get husband and the groom into the ladies' room and get the can outside.
I didn't think the bride needed to know.
Very interesting anecdotes, ladies! Yeah, critters can be a strange lot, no doubt. At the moment, I can't seem to dredge up anything weird AND furry, but I'll scratch my brain a little more and see if anything pops out alter.
Had a cat living under a small house I once rented with some friends, but that wasn't anything special...
I once had a squirrel drop out from between a gap in the ceiling tile and a hot water pipe in this VERY old building in Boston. He landed in the giant clawtooth bathtub and couldn't get out. But SuperG already told a squirrel story, so....Now I can tell you some stories about some of the the weird and furry guys I've dated, but let's leave a little mystery, shall we?
Did you open up the wall again so she could get her babies?!!?
No, YGF, she got them out herself. She literally chewed through the adjacent wood and peeled back the sheet metal at the edge until she could get in there and get them. I can't imagine how hard it must have been for her to do it with only her teeth and claws. But, I can imagine that I'd have been pretty damned mad, too, if I'd been in her place.
Opus, your bat story scared the bejesus right out of me. I don't like those critters much either, though I've had nary an incident with them...and would very much like to keep it that way! The thought of a squirrel dropping out of the ceiling is a nightmare I had for months. And knowing that it could have been a reality isn't helping...;)
Highlander, thanks, as always, my sweet, for the praise. And as for whether a squirrel could be intelligent enough to have done what I've claimed...I simply don't know. But that bitch was mad. Maybe she was on the lam from some lab or something. I don't know. But I don't ever want to cross paths with her again.
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