That's my wrist, with 3 or 4 barely visible scratches. Obviously no biggie, but how they got there is, shall we say, unusual.
Today I cut the grass in my suburban yard. The backyard has a several big trees and a large brick patio. Standing on the patio, I'd just finished blowing the clippings off the bricks when I heard something come falling down through the tree branches. In my yard, this happens all the time and usually what falls through the branches is another branch.
The falling object hit the bricks right in front of me, hard, with a loud WHAP! But this time it wasn't a branch, it was a squirrel! Went for the next tree limb, missed, and fell a good 15-20 feet to the patio, not the grass. Stunned for a second, the little bastard shook it off, jumped up onto a chair, then the fence, then a tree, and was gone into the neighbor's yard.
Well, you don't see that everyday, do you? I remember thinking these thoughts, literally: "Holy shit, that squirrel damn near fell on me! That would have hurt!" And at that precise moment, I heard something else come falling down through the branches and, unmistakably, it was right above me. I instinctively ducked and covered my head with my hands.
It was -- I am not making this up -- another falling squirrel! WHAP! This little rodent Wallenda hit me square on my bowed, semi-covered head, bounced/scratched/leapt onto the same fence and, like his fellow flopper, was gone. And yes, it hurt, a little.
Sounds incredible, but Scout's honor, that's the way it went down -- two falling squirrels in almost the same exact spot in the space of 10-15 seconds.
I went inside to show the lovely Mrs. Gammons my squirrel wounds and she said I should get a rabies shot. I said, no, these squirrels were clearly inexperienced freshmen without the skills necessary to acquire a deadly disease. But if I start snarling and foaming at the mouth, you'll know I was wrong.
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Squirrel!!!!!! |
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