man vs. beast(s)

my father is locked in a battle of wills with some of the wildlife in our neighbourhood.

to really appreciate the tale i am about to tell you, you have to understand a couple of things. first of all my father has it in his head that all his problems stem from the activity of the local squirrel population. depending upon how long you've been reading this blog, you may already be aware that there are raccoons and skunks in the area as well. added to that there are also some nomadic cats slinking about the neigbourhood. we don't know who the cats belong to but they are under the misguided belief that they own all they survey. secondly, my father, like many born and bred in the islands, is known to revert back to island patois when agitated.

there are a lot of people who are of the mistaken belief that all island patois can be referred to as 'speaking jamaican'. each caribbean island has its own distinct patois. island folks know instantly where someone is from as soon as they open their mouth. also each island has an ego and you can pretty much get people hopping mad by suggesting that they come from anywhere other than the island of their birth. much like how you can really piss off a scotsman or an irishman by misidentifying their accent.

since my father planted his garden he has been storming around the homestead muttering under his breath and cursing the squirrels.

island folks have their own way of pronouncing things... a trait most commonly committed by the older population. which is why my dad calls them "skwee-rels". island folk also like to put pronouns after the noun and use the singular version of the noun. so when my father says 'those damn squirrels' what you actually hear is "de d'yam skwee-rel dem" or literally 'the damn squirrel them'.

as far as my father was concerned the squirrels alone were digging up his garden.

something has burrowed under the side gate. originally it was a fairly shallow trench but i guess whatever it is, it has been putting on some weight because lately that trench has been getting deeper and deeper.

my poor father has had enough and has tried a few different ways to discouraging the foraging. mothballs were ground into a powder and spread liberally throughout the yard. fail! some electronic devices were purchased and installed at regular intervals throughout the front and back yards. fail! most recently my father attempted to season the grounds by liberally adding cayenne pepper. epic fail! the morning after the cayenne pepper was laid out my brother and i watched three skunks have some sort of party in the back yard. they were either digging up a storm or were participating in some sort of skunk booty dance. from our vantage point in the kitchen we were unable accurately ascertain the activity and neither of us were stupid and/or brave enough to get close enough to see clearly.

as far as dad was concerned that was the final straw. unbeknownst to me he attempted to block the space under the gate with a tree limb. i went out one morning to open the gate to retrieve my kawi and the side gate was mysteriously blocked. common sense would have dictated that i walk through the house and approach the gate from the other side. on one hand i could well be described at stubborn, although i much prefer the term tenacious. you could probably blame my behaviour on my activities in the gym because these days i am more inclined to rely on brute strength instead of common sense.

that said, there i was tugging, pushing and lifting the gate all the while littering the air with some fairly colourful language. i am fairly confident that the gate and the tree limb were both physically incapable of the activities i recommended they do. further i am fairly sure neither item has a 'mother' per se. eventually i bullied my way into the backyard. i am pleased to note that the gate still stands although it is not quite as sturdy as it once was.

did the tree limb discourage the burrower? nope there was just a deeper trench.

local wildlife: 1  my dad: 0