Several months ago, on the camping trip that I almost lost Connor - well, technically did lose him but found him shortly thereafter - Connor collected an enormous bag of acorns. His plan was to sell them for $100 each, so that he would have a lot of money. The sale never took place, but as the bag sat on our front porch, an enterprising squirrel took note and begin to nibble.
The first day we walked out and saw acorn tops and shells scattered, Connor was mad. So we wrapped the bag a little tighter. This fellow was persistent though, so the squirrel had another snack the next day. Then I allowed Connor to move the bag inside, and it was finally safe.
Of course, soon I spotted some strange worm-like bug in the house, and having nothing else to blame, I blamed the acorns and back to the porch they want.
The squirrel was happy, indeed.
So happy, that eventually it ate more than half the bag. Our porch was a mess, and Connor was furious. (But not so furious as to actually move the bag into the shed, or something clever like that.)
We move the bag around the porch, tie it, wrap it up, but always, the squirrel gets in.
A few days ago, Ed hung the bag from a nail on the porch, up high. Today, I sit at my office window watching the squirrel try and figure out how to climb about 4 feet up a column to get his tiny little hands on the acorns he desires. So far, no luck.
Elaine
He never sold them, huh?
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