I have felt the cold breath of death while dodging gunfire in an alley. I have wrestled with Satan himself while caught in a tornado.
But nothing stiffens my spine and looses my bowels like the cold, heartless stare of the most fearsome creature known to urbankind: the goddam squirrels.
If you live in the wretched Front Range and have tried growing anything other than grass in your suburban yard, you know what I’m talking about.
Self-exploding freaks packing pounds of TNT are no match for an 8-ounce, tail-twitching tormentor just waiting to get at your spinach shoots, your carrot tops, your defenseless bean plants.
Oh, the calamity. These furry soldiers of misfortune are bred to infiltrate your most ardent defenses set to protect what is rightfully yours growing in your sweat-laden vegetable garden. It’s war, fellow gardeners, and war is hell. So is my backyard.
Let me set you straight about what doesn’t work in the battle against these neighborhood nut cases:
1. Pepper spray. Hah. What a joke. I live in a neighborhood brimming with Mexican immigrants who have inadvertently taught every squirrel within miles of my house to season everything in the garden with fresh habaneros plucked from plants all over the barrio. Squirrels not only laugh at those who toss poblanos or jalapenos across the yard, they stuff them with cream cheese for amuse-bouche during their clandestine wine tastings.
2. Animal urine. I’m really not sure if this would do anything or not, but spraying coyote wizz all over my prize beefsteaks drew a most unsavory response from my wife in advance. There has to be a better way.
3. Traps. The squirrels in my neighborhood bait humans with stuffed animals they win at Elitch’s as ringer sharpshooters in the carnie games. I’ve seen dozens of my neighbors inadvertently truck fake squirrels down to the river thinking they’ve taken care of business. Some squirrels pretend to get caught in the traps just to get a free ride to the mountains for a long weekend. Ever notice how when you trap one he seems to pop right back? Yup.
4. Shooting them with pellet guns. I know better than to try this myself after watching my neighbor embarrass himself for months with his poor aim, dangling cigar and always empty bourbon glass. The squirrels pretend to cross your yard on the power line, when in fact they’re just entertaining their friends who sit in the trees and pay for the show with what they steal from your garden.
5. Getting a dog. Don’t bother. Nothing entertains creepy squirrels more than a Lab gone hoarse from barking at him while he hauls off you cucumbers. The only thing more pathetic than a dog barking endlessly at a squirrel in a tree or on a power line is a human trying to hit one with a pellet gun. Just in case there might be a Heaven where we have to sit through the movies of our lives in judgment, you don’t want to have to explain this.
6. Fences. The only thing that ever kept a squirrel from getting through a fence anywhere on this planet is if he meets the wheel of your car while en route.
7. Decoy piles of sunflower seeds on the opposite end of the yard = free squirrel appetizer before they make your garden the main course.
8. Electric fences just above and below ground level on your garden perimeter. Squirrels are actually the ones who invented this cruel trick, which provides endless amusement to them as you, your family, your dog and the neighborhood cats scream every time you take 10,000 volts to the bottom of your foot or your schnauzer’s tongue. It’s a little known fact that squirrels harness this free electricity at night to run amps during neighborhood rodent raves. You don’t want to know what they do with the clothes you sometimes leave hanging overnight. They’re animals.
9. Exorcisms. Guess who really pushed Damien’s mom from the balcony?
10. Leaf blowers. Don’t ask. Don’t tell. Please.
Here’s the only thing that does keep squirrels out of your garden: nothing. Plant now and frequently. It keeps them out of restaurants.
So, looking for where I left that nuke shaped like a butternut squash, I’m outta here. n