Something tells me it might be easier to dispose of a dead chipmunk if, in fact, the chipmunk in question is actually dead.
I threw on a shirt and some shorts, grabbed a pair of good gardening gloves, and headed out back to see about pitching our fuzzy little corpse into the compost pile in the wooded area out back. I inhaled the delightful morning air, cool and ripe with possibility. I surveyed the scene.
And that's when he started twitching around and really freaking out.
With a surprising amount of calm, I turned right back around and went to get some scissors, then went back out to cut him loose.
If you ever have to cut a chipmunk loose from bird netting, make sure you have good thick gloves on, because the little blighter is not going to be terribly cooperative, nor is he really going to be happy about his predicament. In short -- look out for the chompers. Luckily, he didn't break through my gloves at all, which is why I'm posting this now instead of after a visit to the hospital. (Guess whose tetanus booster has long expired?)
He had done a great job of getting tangled up, so it was rather a challenge to get him loose without him taking off one of my limbs in the process. I wasn't able to get everything from around his neck, since he was pretty sensitive about where the scissors were going.
But I did get him free, and off he ran, hopefully to be a smarter chipmunk in the future. Granted, he'll probably choke to death from the netting that's still around his neck, or be the new poster boy for environmentally abused rodents, but I did everything I could for him, so I'm not going to spend any energy feeling guilty about it.
Besides, the little bastard was after my strawberries. It's hard to feel any pity for thieves, no matter how cute and fuzzy they may be.
- Mood: awake
- Music: Eric Clapton - "Knockin' On Heaven's Door" (iTunes shuffle p