My husband loves squirrel, but I cannot abide it for the reasons given. To add insult to injury, he took me out squirrel shooting with him in the snow when my first baby was overdue “to hurry labor along”. I was like a big walrus, flopping along, and barely able to navigete through the snow while he rushed ahead after the elusive squirrels.
He didn’t get any that day, and I just got tired. I remember collapsing on the side of the RR tracks in tears while the train rumbled by because I couldn’t make it across the tracks to catch up with him in my very pregnant state. That child did not come for another 2 weeks and weighed over 9 lbs, so you can imagine how clumsy I was, trying to galumph around in the snow. I’m still married to him, although sometimes I wonder why, when I remember things like this!
I suppose I could eat a squirrel if the economy completely collapes, although I hope it never comes to that.
“I suppose I could eat a squirrel if the economy completely collapes, although I hope it never comes to that.”
Oh my goodness, Afraid, what an awful tale!
If it ever gets THAT bad I will eat squirrel with you, but only after we’ve exhausted the supply of grass, roots, nuts and hello, chicken!
I’m not going to do well in a societal collapse, not at all.