Squirrels are bushy-tailed little jerks

Nature. It can be awe-inspiring in its best moments. It can be breathtaking and soul-nourishing, exciting and motivating. It can help us feel and be our best. It can soothe us and deliver us peace.

But most of the time, it’s just annoying and mean and difficult. Nature is a jerk.

That’s not an opinion. It’s a fact.

Last weekend I had to take down a whole string of almostbrand-new patio lights — the nice old-fashiony bulb style — because they were “lights” but only just barely. The string of 20 lights — or however many I started with — had been chewed down to three measly bulbs. It was almost a string of light, not lights.

They looked ridiculous out there. I had them set on a timer so that every day as the sun set, those lights illuminated the backyard in a beautiful, warm glow as if a squad of angels had arrived and were hovering out by the firepit.

That glowing string of lights had become mostly a gaping black hole with three random bulbs mocking me. Nature did this.

I already wrote about the research I did as to where the heck my light bulbs were going and sure enough, the culprit is part of nature.

According to the internet, my bulbs were probably stolen by squirrels.

Apparently, they will do this. They think the light bulbs are nuts and they just take them.

They don’t just take the bulbs either. That would make it too easy for me to just replace them. Oh no. These bushytailed little jerks chew the wire that the bulb dangles from. I don’t get it. I’m 100 per cent sure that if I went out there and tried to chew my patio light wire, I’d get electrocuted and die.

I’m also 100 per cent sure that if I somehow succeeded at chewing the wire and made off with the bulb and I thought the bulb was a nut and then discovered that, no, it’s just a piece of glass and wires, I wouldn’t go back for seconds or eighths or 17ths.

Squirrels strike me as pretty intelligent little animals. They seem quite good at recognizing threats, aside from cars, and they’re clever at swiping seeds from bird feeders and at infiltrating cottages.

Are squirrels not as smart as we thought? Are they wirechewing, light-bulb-eating morons?

I don’t think they are. I think they are just jerks.

Now, speaking of jerks, my grown adult children often complain about the pain and difficulty of being grown adults. Adulting is hard, they’ll tell me. It definitely is and their adulting has mostly consisted of making sure they had enough money to cover the rent and a growler.

You want some hard adulting? Try dealing with grubs.

Ya. Grubs.

Earlier this spring I noticed some strange happenings on the front lawn. One day it was normal and the next day it looked like someone tried to till a garden right in my yard.

The damage spread. There was another patch of mutilated sod, then another, and another. What in the heck? Another mystery and more wanton destruction and the culprit — surprise surprise — is nature.

Turns out there are little critters in the ground called grubs and while the name sounds gross, they are a delicacy in some circles. Skunks and raccoons love to eat these things and they aren’t at all polite about it. They dig holes or rip up the grass as if they’re rolling sod out of it.

Then when they’re done, the crows come and pull out even more chunks of grass as they pick away at any lingering grubs. (Lingering Grubs would be a good name for a rock band, eh Dave Barry? Eh?)

Think adulting is hard? Try surveying grub damage and trying to decide if you either want to spend your summer weekends digging, raking, and chasing animals, or do you want to pay a few thousand dollars for a company to come in and take care of your problem for you? If you do that, you can’t afford to replace the bulbs that the squirrels ate.

Or do you just want to watch your lawn get turned into a moonscape of horror?

Ya, adulting is hard. Nature is a jerk. I want a growler.