Savior of the Birdseed

Morning coffee. The Sunday paper. No kids. As serene as it can get for The Guitarman. Until now. First saw the little bugger climbing the "squirrel-proof" pole of the bird feeder to reach the golden bounty held above. I'd like to have a word with the guy who came up with the phrase "squirrel-proof". There is no such thing. Then to my surprise, and slight amusement, he was joined by another. I watched the playful banter ensue and couldn't determine if it was a territorial standoff, or two good buds exchanging bites all in good fun. I didn't realize at the time, but it didn't matter.

Two became three, which became four, and eventually settled on five. The corn cob in the corner was long depleted of its niblets, and they were on the prowl for more. This had to stop. I took off the old man glasses, sucked down the last drops of my coffee, and went out back to put down my thing. The events that unfolded were unexpected to say the least.

GM: Um, excuse me, but just what do you think you are doing?
S#1: Fuck off, eating.
S#2: Yea, piss off before I put a cap in your homo-sapien, opposable thumb ass.

Didn't notice the other three, circling behind me.

GM: Hey, I'm just trying to do the right thing here. I give you corn, you eat it, and you in turn leave the bird seed for, I don't know, maybe the birds?
S#1: Listen up dog. We do what we want, when we want it, where we want it.
S#2: Yea, where we want it.
GM: Hey, I can get all Quentin Tarantino on your rodent empire at any given moment. You want that kind of heat?
S#1: Last warning. Go back to your forced-air heated snuggle-hut, and leave us to our fat-padding over-consumption before this gets ugly.
S#2: Yea, snuggle-hut.

That's it. It's go time.

I whipped out my Glock and spun around, firing away at anything that moved. The first went down in a sort of explosion as my 9mm projectile split his carcass in two. As I was leveling the gun at the next one, I was attacked from all sides with a flurry of flying hair, razor claws, and gnashing teeth. It was at that precise moment that the image of the smiling hardware store clerk flashed through my mind: "You really want to invite these critters onto your lawn?" Ah the un-intending wisdom of the high school senior. If only I hadn't been so presumptuous to assume that my nearly 5 decades of acquired wisdom outweighed his fledgling 1 1/2, I might not be standing on my patio looking like a used cat scratching pole.

In the end, I guess I "won". Four squirrels lay in a bloody heap on my patio, the precious bird seed saved for the Black-Capped Chickadees was safe in its' lofty perch. The last squirrel had retreated to the corner of the yard, atop the fence. His unblinking beady little eyes fixed on mine, and I'm thinking: If only I hadn't opened the curtains.