Was Ripped Down Again

I have enjoyed a good run with this ‘squirrel proof’ bird feeder and the pair woodpecker suet feeders I have alongside them.  They’re out my widow, and generate a fair amount of traffic.  The suet feeder was ripped down again last night.  The larger one had been torn open and the half-eaten suet cake was lying a few feet away, on the ground.  That’s no squirrel damage and they ain’t nocturnal.  It must be the same damned raccoons that destroyed the last perch I’d hung a feeder from. 

Not proud about it.  But it wasn’t long before I was examining just how much a wrist-rocket cost on Amazon.   There are what appear to be budget sling shots, the standard devices I remember, as well as some ferocious looking things designed for professional hunters.  You can also buy a tub of steel balls and for those looking to shoot in an ecologically friendly way there are projectiles made of clay, as well, which presumably do just as good a job of destroying whatever it is they strike.  

I tried to imagine sitting around, waiting for the lumbering raccoon to show on the far corner of the porch, where it would take no skill whatsoever to hit him with a speeding ball and send him running.  But it would unlikely serve as a warning shot.  I reckoned anything that struck had a good chance of bruising the creature at a minimum.  The woods are a tough place to have a limp, even if you’re a big mammal like a raccoon.  Primal, exciting, humorous in a manner unfortunate, it wasn't really something I wanted to do in the end.  I toggled away from the wrist-rocket page and went back to list of books.

Later we returned to this meat-and-potatoes treatment of WWII the thirteen part: “World  War II in HD Color” on Netflix.  This must have been written by someone in the U.K., as certain All-American all-stars like Patton are given only passing consideration.   (It was.)  Tonight, we viewed the Normandy landing.  I had never really thought about that so much of that extraordinary affair was down to logistics and supplying troops with food and gasoline, and ordinance to move beyond their beach heads.  I’d been to Antwerp once, but at the time certainly didn’t understand its significance for the Allies.  Without that port, free of mines and ready to receive ships the Allies wouldn’t have made it more than a few miles into France.  I also newly considered the dead-end nightmare it must have been to have served as one of Hitler’s ghoulish generals.  Time and time again, faced with certain devastation, Hitler tells them to hold the line and not retreat.  

“Tomorrow night girls.  Tomorrow.”  They want to know when we will be returning to things in the War that concern Asia.

Thursday, 5/21/20