Squirrel Irony

Before I left for Mexico I witnessed what could only have been supreme irony in the squirrel world.

A baby rattlesnake about eight inches long got into the garage, and was promptly killed using a long-handled scrub brush. It meant the death of the scrub brush too, which as it turns out had never been designed with withstand pounding action and broke.

But the snake was dead, and a good thing too, because it is apparently not just urban myth that young snakes are more dangerous than older snakes. The younger ones haven't yet learned venom control and tend to reflexively inject all their venom if they bite, whereas older snakes are able to distinguish between defensive bites and hunting bites and may not waste venom on a defensive strike (venom here regarded as a hunting asset, not a defensive weapon).

Anyway, I was sitting outside viewing the tenderized remnants of the little snake, which ended up out by the garbage can. I was still long enough that the little squirrels started to run and scamper and squeak at one another, and presently one of them found the snake. The squirrel sniffed cautiously at the snake, then sniffed somewhat less cautiously, then actually grabbed the snake with his squirrel teeth and dragged it away to his hole.

One didn't have to be The Amazing Kreskin to know that the squirrel was thinking "Hot dog! Usually the snakes eat us, but today I exact a weird and ironic revenge on the snakes!"

Kinda makes me look twice at the squirrels, though. Maybe I shouldn't sit still so long that they decide to try to drag me away.