I have a friend who is scared of squirrels. Several of the fuzzy tailed critters got in his attic and he about went nuts (pardon the obvious squirrel pun) trying to get them out. He feels about them the way I feel about mice. Perhaps if I had ever been chased by a squirrel like he was I might fear them. I haven’t actually been chased by a mouse either, but a mouse did run up my husband’s pants leg and in my opinion watching Bill dance with a mouse in his pants was one of the highlights of our marriage.
I’m not sure Bill would agree.
Anyway, back to squirrels. Last Sunday I woke up to the sound of barking. Not just occasional barking but the sort that lets you know that something unusual is going on. I followed the noise to my sun porch and looked outside. At first I didn’t see anything. It looked like our dogs were serenading me. They were all lined up on the ground beneath the porch and howling like crazy. I followed their eyes and this is what I saw.
The dogs weren’t going to give up and the squirrel wasn’t going to come down. What to do?
I went and got Bill of course! Saving a squirrel comes under “jobs for men” in my book. The dogs didn’t want to leave the squirrel for Bill either. We tried bribing them with food…no luck. Finally we picked them up, one by one and carried them into the house and then we waited for the squirrel to escape. And we waited, and we waited.
So Bill decided to hurry him up.
Bill gently tapping the screen.
It didn’t work. We went inside and when Mr. Squirrel got good and ready…he left. And I imagine he won’t be back…..ever.
While I’m on the subject of squirrels I have to share something with you about my grandmother that those of you who aren’t from the south may find shocking. Growing up she often ate squirrel brains and scrambled eggs for breakfast. Before you throw up or call PETA or something, remember my grandmother was born in 1913 and grew up on a farm in rural Kentucky. Lots of people ate squirrel brains and when I Googled it, I found articles about squirrel brains in newspapers. Mostly warning folks to be careful about the squirrels they choose to consume.
Here’s part of an article from August of 1997 printed in the New York Times.
Doctors in Kentucky have issued a warning that people should not eat squirrel brains, a regional delicacy, because squirrels may carry a variant of mad cow disease that can be transmitted to humans and is fatal.
The article went on to say,
Squirrels are a popular food in rural Kentucky, where people eat either the meat or the brains but generally not both, Dr. Weisman said. Families tend to prefer one or the other depending on tradition. Those who eat only squirrel meat chop up the carcass and prepare it with vegetables in a stew called burgoo. Squirrels recently killed on the road are often thrown into the pot.
Families that eat brains follow only certain rituals. ”Someone comes by the house with just the head of a squirrel,” Dr. Weisman said, ”and gives it to the matriarch of the family. She shaves the fur off the top of the head and fries the head whole. The skull is cracked open at the dinner table and the brains are sucked out.” It is a gift-giving ritual. The second most popular way to prepare squirrel brains is to scramble them in white gravy, he said, or to scramble them with eggs. In each case, the walnut-sized skull is cracked open and the brains are scooped out for cooking.
Let me make it perfectly clear, I have never eaten (nor do I want to eat) any part of a squirrel. Grandma may have eaten squirrel brains in her younger days but by the time I entered the world she only talked about it. She also talked about eating frog legs (lots of folks around here still do) and mountain oysters. I loved my grandma with all my heart, but no matter how much I loved her if she had ever placed any of those items on the table in front of me I don’t care how long my mother made me sit at the table I would never, ever clean my plate!
How about you?
