Coming up the driveway, I noticed that the squirrel I accidentally hit yesterday afternoon was already gone. Nature wastes nothing. I felt bad about hitting the squirrel, although I have been at war with the long-tailed rodents for a few years. I like to feed our wild birds, and the squirrels have been raiding my various feeders for a long time. I have been known to take pot shots at the raiders with my one-shot pellet pistol. I missed more than I hit, but I did manage to hit a few.
Recently, I purchased an overpriced squirrel guard for the bird feeder, which was simple but effective. Since it worked, I guess it wasn’t overpriced.
Since installation, the squirrels have been content to eat the birds’ wasted seed on the ground, rather than climbing up the pole, lifting up the lid, and stuffing their greedy heads into the feeder itself to eat like pigs at a trough. I no longer feel animosity towards the grounded squirrels.
After arriving at home, I grabbed my bag of freshly roasted Mexican coffee beans.
There was a time when I would drink nothing but a ristretto (restricted espresso shot). Those days of purity are long past. Today, I opted for a simpler form of making coffee–a method that will serve me well when I begin travels with the Scamp.
Justin and I are taking it easy. Julia is off in Nashville at a meeting. She left me this cup from a previous meeting to remember her by–with a semi-famous Ben Franklin quote.
