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Okay nut collectors, now starts the semi-official Great Squirrel Experiment message Thread. Step up, don't be shy, and post stories about squirrels all from all over the world. Be it red, grey, brown, American, European, etc.
First Thread: That's right, we love humanity.
I don't condone this, but:
Funny but absolutely unholy. You know that Squirral's coming back and doing something nasty to thier house.
As a young naive child growing up on an oak lined street in Staten Island, NY, I befriended an overly plump, rather tame squirrel, the children of my block named Fluffy Tail. We fed him some kind of oat cluster cereal (the one that had rabid squirrels parachuting from the sky to pounce on it's honey touched goodness in the commercials) and tried to teach him tricks until that fateful day the evil rogue stray german shephard pack from the next street over prowled their way onto our street. Evil dogs that harrowed us at our bus stop, we dubbed them Macho, and Comanche, and Soul Drinker. I was sitting on the stoop, and there was Fluffy Tail dangling from the jaws of Soul Drinker's impressive maw of doom. My mother said they were playing but now that I am thirty, I know this to be a lie. Thanks for bringing up the haunting memory me and my therapist spent years blocking out....thanks....
I never dreamed slowly cruising on my motorcycle through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Little did I suspect.
I was on Brice Street - a very nice neighborhood with perfect lawns and slow traffic. As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me.
It was a squirrel, and must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it -- it was that close. I hate to run over animals, and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me.
I barely had time to brace for the impact. Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels, I discovered, can take care of themselves!
Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing my oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his beady little eyes.
His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he screamed and leapt! I am pretty sure the scream was squirrel for, "Bonzai!" or maybe, "Die you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!" The leap was nothing ahort of spectacular...
He shot straight up, flew over my windshield, and impacted me squarely in the chest. Instantly, he set upon me. If I did not know better, I would have sworn he brought 20 of his little buddies along for the attack.
Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed only in a light T-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage!
Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and leather gloves, puttering at maybe 25 mph down a quiet residential street, and in the fight of his life with a squirrel. And losing...
I grabbed for him with my left hand. After a few misses, I finally
managed to snag his tail. With all my strength, I flung the evil rodent off to the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I
recoiled from the throw. That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there.
It really should have.
The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser. But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary angry squirrel.
This was an EVIL MUTANT ATTACK SQUIRREL OF DEATH!
Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands and, with the force of the throw, swung around and with a resounding thump and an amazing impact, he landed squarely on my BACK and resumed his rather antisocial and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him! The situation was not improved.
Not improved at all.
His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him. I was
startled, to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can only have one result.
Torque.
This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very, very good at it.
The engine roared and the front wheel left the pavement. The squirrel
screamed in anger. The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy. I screamed in .. well .. I just plain screamed.
Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in
jeans, a slightly squirrel-torn t-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, and roaring at maybe 50 mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street on one wheel, with a demonic squirrel of death on his back.
The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder. With the
sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike.
This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody's tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle...my brain was just simply overloaded. I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had
little effect against the massive power of the big cruiser.
About this time the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient
attention to this very serious battle (maybe he was an evil mutant NAZI
attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got INSIDE my
full-face helmet with me.
As the faceplate closed part way, he began hissing in my face. I am quite sure my screaming changed intensity. It had little effect on the squirrel, however. The RPMs on the Dragon maxed out (since I was not bothering with shifting at the moment), so her front end started to drop.
Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in
jeans, a very raggedly torn T-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, roaring at probably 80 mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel's tail sticking out of the mostly closed full-face helmet. By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse.
Finally I got the upper hand ... I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This time it worked ... sort-of.
Spectacularly sort-of ...so to speak.
Picture a new scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork. Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn T-shirt flapping in the breeze, and
wearing only one leather glove, moving at probably 80 mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by, and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your police car.
I heard screams.
They weren't mine...
I managed to get the big motorcycle under control and dropped the front
wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign of a busy cross street. I would have returned to 'fess up (and to get my glove back). I really would have.
Really... Except for two things.
First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned
about me at the moment. When I looked back, the doors on both sides of the patrol car were flung wide open. The cop from the passenger side was on his back, doing a crab walk into somebody's front yard, quickly moving away from the car. The cop who had been in the driver's seat was standing in the street, aiming a riot shotgun at his own police car.
So, the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to "let the
professionals handle it" anyway.
That was one thing. The other?
Well, I could clearly see shredded and flying pieces of foam and
upholstery from the back seat. But I could also swear I saw the squirrel in the back window, shaking his little fist at me. That is one
dangerous squirrel. And now he has a patrol car. A somewhat shredded patrol car but it was all his.
I took a deep breath, turned on my turn-signal, made a gentle right turn
off of Brice Street, and sedately left the neighborhood. I decided it was best to just buy myself a new pair of gloves. And a whole lot of Band-Aids.
Edit: Tried to fix some of the formatting.. didn't transfer from notepad very well..
My mother said they were playing but now that I am thirty, I know this to be a lie. Thanks for bringing up the haunting memory me and my therapist spent years blocking out....thanks....
We try our best. :-)
Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and leather gloves, puttering at maybe 25 mph down a quiet residential street, and in the fight of his life with a squirrel. And losing...
There is a leeson in this children. Never cross the path of a squirrel. Ever.
Mmmmm......pigeon.Mmmmmm....squirrel.Aberzombie, the consumption of squirrel meat is stictly barred on this thread. However, the comsumption of almonds, walnuts, peanuts, pasticcios, etc. is encouraged.
::::Hands Aberzombie a bag of roasted nuts::::
Here you go. Enjoy.
Damn, I knew I should've used a stick.
Damn, I knew I should've used a stick.Mmmmm......pigeon.Mmmmmm....squirrel.Aberzombie, the consumption of squirrel meat is stictly barred on this thread. However, the comsumption of almonds, walnuts, peanuts, pasticcios, etc. is encouraged.
::::Hands Aberzombie a bag of roasted nuts::::
Here you go. Enjoy.
Mmmmm....stick?
Yes...beware of Secret Squirrel...Thanks!
I'm glad you liked it.
Those little fuzzy bastards are not to be trifled with.
But who's the secret squirrel. It can't be him. That furry little bastard has accomplices, I know it. They were up to something.
Mmmmm......pigeon.Mmmmmm....squirrel.Aberzombie, the consumption of squirrel meat is stictly barred on this thread. However, the comsumption of almonds, walnuts, peanuts, pasticcios, etc. is encouraged.
::::Hands Aberzombie a bag of roasted nuts::::
Here you go. Enjoy.
HEY!!! Watch it you stupid flowerbed-killing skeleton!
But who's the secret squirrel. It can't be him. That furry little bastard has accomplices, I know it. They were up to something.
The secret squirrel is a myth. Ignore him. "Pay no attention to the squirrel behind the curtain."
But who's the secret squirrel. It can't be him. That furry little bastard has accomplices, I know it. They were up to something.The secret squirrel is a myth. Ignore him. "Pay no attention to the squirrel behind the curtain."
*Pull curtain aside*
'Yap! Yap! Yap!'
I never dreamed slowly cruising on my motorcycle through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Little did I suspect. ...
...
...I grabbed for him with my left hand. After a few misses, I finally
managed to snag his tail. With all my strength, I flung the evil rodent off to...
~laughing so hard that tears are streaming down my face and I am clutching my chest~ OMG! Oh, please stop! This is too funny! Gah! Please stop me from laughing! Too funny! ~then a ninja Squirrel attacks me and puts me out of my misery~
(~laughing still in RT~ Thanks for that VERY funny story! I am just sorry that you had to go through so much pain to have had it to relay to us!)
~laughing so hard that tears are streaming down my face and I am clutching my chest~ OMG! Oh, please stop! This is too funny! Gah! Please stop me from laughing! Too funny! ~then a ninja Squirrel attacks me and puts me out of my misery~
(~laughing still in RT~ Thanks for that VERY funny story! I am just sorry that you had to go through so much pain to have had it to relay to us!)
Haha! Now that's a great reaction!
Thanks!
Although.. the start of your paragraph made me worry for your health! hahah
Tonight at 11 - local man killed by humorous anectode on the internet
We know what to do. We don't need to get you in your houses. We like playing at the power station.
Uh-uh. Perhaps I should quote Alan Gomez.
Squirrels that fry themselves on power lines and transformers cause tens of thousands of blackouts every year.
How does transforming into a fried chipmunk due to munching on transformers give you amusement? Can I see your stats for a sec?
We know what to do. We don't need to get you in your houses. We like playing at the power station.Uh-uh. Perhaps I should quote Alan Gomez.
Squirrels that fry themselves on power lines and transformers cause tens of thousands of blackouts every year.How does transforming into a fried chipmunk due to munching on transformers give you amusement? Can I see your stats for a sec?
Transforming? Who said anything about transforming. We're squiirels that wear rubber insulated suits. Without the suits however, we combust quite nicely. Ask Alvin. He forgot to wear his suit and was turned into a large pile of ash. He hasn't moved in a week.
OBTW, That's all the stats you're going to get too.
*****The Squirrel Report*****
Okay, time to kick this thread going again....
Yes they do. It is a good thing I have ranks in Climb.Us Squirrels don't eat phylacteries. We put them in trees with the rest of the nuts.~wicked grin~ Actually, KC is a Son of a Lich! ~runs~Man, that was awful.
Trents don't like it when liches climb their bark. Upsets the balance of nature and other stuff. Plus those cold fingers leave awful rashes.
Trents don't like it when liches climb their bark. Upsets the balance of nature and other stuff. Plus those cold fingers leave awful rashes.Yes they do. It is a good thing I have ranks in Climb.Us Squirrels don't eat phylacteries. We put them in trees with the rest of the nuts.~wicked grin~ Actually, KC is a Son of a Lich! ~runs~Man, that was awful.
...it is also a good thing I had Flame Strike prepared.
On the downside, now there's a bunch of angry, homeless squirrels after me.
Found on DefenseTech.Org
Secret Squirrels in Action
According to The Washington Post's Al Kaman, an editorial in the July 10 edition of the Iranian newspaper Resalat reported the following:
"A few weeks ago, 14 squirrels equipped with espionage systems of foreign intelligence services were captured by [Iranian] intelligence forces along the country's borders. These trained squirrels, each of which weighed just over 700 grams, were released on the borders of the country for intelligence and espionage purposes. According to the announcement made by Iranian intelligence officials, alert police officials caught these squirrels before they could carry out any task.
"Fixing GPS devices, bugging instruments and advanced cameras in the bodies of trained animals like squirrels, mice, hamsters, etc, are among modern methods of collecting intelligence. Given the fast speed and the special physical features of these animals, they provide special capabilities for spying operations. Once the animals return to their place of origin, the intelligence gathered by them is then offloaded. . . ."
I'm convinced my local government has employed a similar tactic to spy on me and I will continue to counter using my English Setters to scare the varments off of my property.
(Gouge: CM)
Paul,
I just found this thread. I'm sitting across from my wife & she thought I'd lost my mind. I was laughing so hard I couldn't breath & tears were rolling. Took me 5 minutes or more to get control of myself! That's the funniest thing I've read in years, maybe ever!
Thanks for the tale, I needed a good laugh! Sorry for your pain though!
