Last week, I popped my arch nemesis, The Squirrel (pictured below), a couple of times with some bird shot loads from my .22 caliber semi automatic rifle. I thought he was done. I thought he ran up the tree and died there, leaving his squirrel skeleton as a warning to other rodent passersby. It seems I was wrong.
It takes a lot of squirrel cahones to walk on the ledge of the window right in front of me. It's as though he's mocking my earlier pellet gun attempts on his life as weak and useless and my bird shot rounds as collateral damage. Meanwhile, he engineers further attempts to violate and peruse my bird feeders. Anyway...
Today he died. I used four .22 caliber copper jacketed hollow points and took his squirrel ass out. He is done. He is no more. His bird feeder molesting days are over. I removed his carcass to a shallow grave in the trees east of the house with my deceased squirrel removal tool (DSRT), aka, a shovel.
Domestic terror of this level must be met by overwhelming force. I will no longer hurl pellets and bird shot and a persistent rodent enemy. I have won my war on domestic terror. The Squirrel is dead.
Next....
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Be Gentle.