Critter Killer

It is with sorrow that I must report my first killing since arriving here in the wilds of West Virginia, ten years ago. My excuse: I was late, I was in a hurry. My bathroom pipes have frozen, and I needed to get to town before noon to get a check into the bank so I could buy a heater to thaw the pipes. As I said, I was in a hurry.

I've been struck, since I moved here, at the imbalance in power between the two-legged and the four- or no-legged. And what we do to them, for no particular reason, except they are where WE want to be. (Hunting is different: there they are what we want to EAT ~~ and that's legit. I figure the Lord of the Dance worked that one out with them in advance. At least I hope so.)

So I'm a slow driver. I figure it gives them at least a fighting chance. I've been pretty pleased that year after year they've all escaped me and my terrible machine. I've had friends and neighbors in awe of me that I've never "been hit by a deer" ~~ most-to-all of them have been. Repeatedly. Much less smaller critters like foxes, raccoons, grinners (aka, 'possums), various kinds of snakes, birds, and the most suicidal of all: the squirrels.

Lost that star today. And, no, it doesn't matter that it was the most death-bent of the bunch, a squirrel. I feel awful. And will hear that crunch, and feel that munch for a long time. And I plan to stay a slow driver. Once is more than enough.