I’m not crazy about squirrels. They eat my birdseed and bury their darn peanuts all over my garden and in my planters. My father called them “furry-tailed rodents,” and popped them with his 22 when they dared to get anywhere near the bird feeder. But that was then, long, long ago in rural Maryland. Now, I live in California, and it seems like nearly all my neighbors are involved in some sort of “save the animals” thing, and would frown on my plugging the little buggers. Besides, I don’t even own a 22.
But I think that if he had seen this squirrel, even my dad might have put down his rifle. In fact, he’d be laughing too hard to hold it! Take a look!