We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
The Eastern Grey Squirrel is a familiar rodent across the eastern US. They are far more abundant in parks and suburbia than in their native woodlands where, I suspect, there is less food and more predation.
I watched a pair mating yesterday morning on a branch next to my driveway. It was a sweet, if brief, physical encounter preceded by some tender play. I felt like a voyeur.
We have a few of the melanistic variant around here. Yes, black.
Smart, social, friendly, and of course, independent sentient creatures. Trusting as pets, and like nearly all animals, civil and guileless. Animals are better people than people, as my dad says.
Some culture-signalling ass will now invariably talk about how if God didn't want us slaughtering stuff as a show of holy sport, stewardship, and husbandry he wouldn't have made bolt guns, Arbys, the Maillard reaction, and carcinogens. And we laughed and laughed and laughed.
Squirrel hunting with a good accurate .22 is fine sport. Vital areas are small, and you have to really know your rifle's ballistics. You'll almost always see game, but they're not easy. A population can be reduced by 50% one year and bounce back the next. The livers are fabulous. I like to use my old 1948 Winchester Model 52B.