I was wrapping up some morning screen time (pondering a waterproof/ADV motorcycle jacket, popping pigs etc) and I heard something settle, a little commotion in the Borch.
A local red squirrel has been lurking, exploring, getting spring frisky, disrespecting my boundaries. It’s this simple, stay outta my stuff and we coexist peacefully.
Rooting around in the Borch is a punishable offense. After flushing it, almost having a couple clear shots, tracking it through piles of things that scream “SpringCleaup” I had a decent line of sight, BUT MISSED.
It made a break for it, now in serious squirrel mode. You know when they seem to be popping in and out of teleportals, “chirp” and it’s here, a nanosecond layer it’s there, maybe a millimeter or foot away, “chip” and it’s somehow in a different location though movement is hardly detected? Challenging target…
Pulled the bolt back while tracking the jerky and unpredictable jump sights ejecting the empty casing, slid it back into place with a fresh long rifle round in the chamber, tracking, almost
“CRACK”
Sorry bud, you crossed the line and you were doing so well keeping your distance. Nope, no dead squirrel pictures, not why this blog exists. I’ll admit my magazine accommodation on the Marlin came in handy sooner than I had thought, hoped.
I’ll flick the cooling carcass deeper into the woods for something’s meal, knowing another will fill its void all too soon.
I’d love to feed the barred owl that’s been hooting up a storm this past week. Spring time and the nest is about to see another cycle, I hope. So far only one voice, albeit plentiful. That owl doesn’t want leftovers (I think, maybe I’ll put it out in a visible place down in the meadow and see what happens. I’m eating seafood leftovers from MBL, how human of me…)
DeedleDoodleDaily 