Captain Squirrely

Who can fathom the depth of evil that lurks behind those beady black eyes?

Captain Squirrely Strikes Again

Carol had borrowed a tractor from Donald to cut one of Bobchi's fields with. She cut most of the day on Sunday, before ominous clouds appeared on the horizon, and she was forced to abandon her chore and leave the tractor and attached bushhog parked beside the shop overnight.

Of course, nothing escapes the wary eye of my arch-nemesis, Captain Squirrely. What you or I might mistake for mere happenstance, Captain Squirrely sees as a ripe opportunity for destruction.

There was danger in the air Monday afternoon, as Carol, Shiloh, and I got out of the car at Bobchi's farm. As I cautiously surveyed my surroundings, some sixth sense drew my attention to the tractor, parked mere feet away from where I was standing.

There, seated menacingly behind the wheel, was Captain Squirrely. I could see the pure evil that glinted wickedly in his eyes as he flicked his tail and chuckled morbidly. In his gnarled paws, this innocent agricultural tool was about to become a macabre weapon of terror and oppression.

Summoning all of my strength and courage, I charged the tractor. For a moment, Captain Squirrely grinned wildly as he reached for the key, obviously envisioning my imminent downfall -- but froze as he realized that his small stature prevented him from reaching the clutch pedal, an essential part of the ignition process.

Before he could recover from this unanticipated blunder, I was upon him, driving him back toward the shop. Hurling a string of obscenities over his shoulder, he scurried up the shop door and sat, just out of reach, regarding me with a cold and piercing glare.

Spitting with anger, he was forced to concede that the battle was already lost. Turning tail, he flitted across the door frame, along the roof, and over the remaining few feet of grass that separated him from the security of the maze of small trees and twisted branches that grow along the west fence. Hurling one final oath in my direction, he flicked his tail and disappeared into the obscurity.

He lives still, even now plotting his next move in our ongoing chessgame for farm domination. While today's terrors were fortunately averted, tomorrow's remain a persistant and looming threat. But faint not, gentile reader. Even this evil rodent genius is no match for the awesome power of the Confederate Canuck.

The Return of Captain Squirrely

I met my arch-nemesis again yesterday. This time he was in the barnyard near the garage. He moved quickly to the safety of a nearby tree, eying me warily as I approached from a low-hanging branch. Then he jumped with sudden recognition and, hurling insidious insults and profanities over his shoulder, he retreated angrily up into the higher branches. View the videos below to witness the tongue lashing he gave me. He continued to bark angrily from the top of the tree for almost a half-hour.

His most recent plan for farm domination -- employing the mercenary services of a rogue bear -- failed miserably. He seems undaunted in his determination, however, and I believe he has returned to his merciless plotting with renewed vigor.

Who knows what dark mechanism I unwittingly foiled by arriving unexpectedly at the very gates of his lair. Who knows what unspeakable atrocities have been devised behind those beady black eyes. My only hope is that I will somehow manage to protect the world from the sheer evil that I know this creature to be capable of.

Coolivational

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Where the Wild Things Are

Last night, we left Bobchi's around 9:30. It was pitch dark, with only a solitary porch fixture to feebly light our way. Of course, we weren't afraid; we've seen skunks, foxes, deer, and raccoons in the past, but nothing larger than that. All of them run at the sight of people.

So far.

Last night, as I headed out to load up the car in the darkness, I heard a very deep growl from somewhere to the south, like the distant grumble of thunder -- "Grrrr."

Is it about to storm? I thought, looking up into a perfectly clear sky. My brow wrinkled with momentary confusion, but I shrugged it off as I strapped Shiloh into the car and popped the car trunk.

As Julie brought another armload of stuff from the house, I heard the sound again; this time from the direction of the garden, where the cherry and crab apple trees are. A very low and throaty -- "Grrrr."

I frowned, looking up from the trunk and turning to peer off into the darkness.

As I turned to look, I saw Julie turn, too. So I didn't just imagine that, I thought.

"What is it?" Carol asked as she walked up, noticing us staring into the blackness with curious expressions.

"Hmm," was all I said, going back to arranging water bottles in the trunk. She's easily exciteable, and I didn't want to cause unnecessary alarm over a mysterious and unidentified sound.

A minute or so later, Julie, Carol, and Shiloh were in the car. I headed back to the house, needing to open the garage door so that I could transfer an electrical cord that I'd be needing the next day. As I passed the willow tree by the steps, I heard it again. Very low, very deep, very big -- "Grrrr."

Needless to say, I grabbed the cord from the trunk and very quickly threw it into the garage before running back to the car. Once inside, I started it up and whipped it around so that the headlights played across the yard... which was now empty, save for the crab apple and cherry trees rustling softly in the wind.

I'm 89% sure there was a bear there by the trees last night. The growl was much too low to be a fox, raccoon, skunk, or even a cougar (all of which are native to this region of Manitoba). It seemed big. And unless my infamous arch-nemesis, Captain Squirrely, gained about 300 pounds since last I saw him, I have a serious problem thinking it was him on the business end of that growl.

In any case, there was something out there. And it wasn't particularly afraid of us, either, because it hung around and growled defiantly at us three times in the space of five minutes, when other animals would have simply fled into the night at the sight of us. It was something that isn't used to just turning tail and running off at the first sight of trouble, something that is comfortable being near the top of the local food chain.

So it was a largish something, and it was a fairly confident something. The only question is -- Exactly what kind of something was it?

Captain Squirrely, Arch-Nemesis

I have a nemesis. His name is Captain Squirrely. He is my rival and life-long enemy. Or so it seems.

A few days ago, I was at the farm, sitting in a lawn chair by the steps. I was listening to my Ipod and minding my own business. All of a sudden, I noticed a squirrel on the trunk of the willow tree not ten feet away from where I sat. He was watching me intently, daring me to make a move. I sat perfectly still, watching out of the corner of my eye as he inched slowly down the tree, skittered across the grass, and bounded up the steps onto the stoop.

My interest now peaked, I got up and went around to see what he was after. I never got to find out, because he let out a startled trill and leaped down into the flower bed the moment he caught sight of me, taking off around the corner of the house.

Of course, I gave chase, following him around the corner and heading him off before he could dart across the lawn to the trees by the garden. With an angry chatter, he turned and fled back to the bush by the steps. There has never before been a more ticked off squirrel, in the entire history of squirrels. He hid in the bush and spat ferociously at me through the foliage, daring me to take one step closer so he could rip me to shreds.

But, through all of the bluster, I could also hear some chirps that sounded a little bit afraid. So I left him alone, and retreated to my lawn chair. After a few minutes of silence, I saw him poke his head carefully out of the bush to look for me, before making a mad dash for the safety of the crate myrtle by the driveway.

The Captain Squirrely of days past has ceased to exist. He is a happy forrest friend no more; now, he is my sworn archenemy.

Today I was working on taking apart one of the metal graineries. From across the yard, I heard the familiar sound of angry chirping and spitting. It seems he saw me coming while I was still a long way off, and he had taken up a defensive position in a solitary tree. He wasn't just scared to come down, he was madder than a hornet that I would even dare to invade his personal territory. He disappeared after I started working, but I'm sure he only retreated to his lair to plot revenge against my transgressions.

I am certain that we have not heard the last of Captain Squirrely. He seeks my destruction, and for complete and total domination of his territory. Today, the farm hangs in the balance. Tomorrow... the world. And I alone stand between him and the fruition of his twisted dreams.

I have a nemesis. His name is Captain Squirrely.