Before Andrew got home last night, I had decided to open a bottle of Crock Rock. He was bringing home dinner for me from BoneFish Grill and he was late.
Meanwhile, the boys and I were hearing some strange sounds coming from the deck. Poor Mrs Flying Squirrel , who makes her nocturnal visits on our bird feeder, had entered the emtpy feeder (thanks to the freaking squirrels) and closed the cap on herself. Thus, she was incredibly desperate and frightened -specially seeing my huge face coming at her, jumping up and down, frantically butting her head against the plug, but not releasing. I could hear the chain inside rattle against the copper and the light from the flashlight caught her sweet face and white underbelly against the glass.
“Aww, Mrs. Flying Squirrel, I bet you’re scared to death. Those damn squirrels pulled out the plug, availing the dangers of getting trapped to you. I’m going to remove the plug and let you jump out.”
After a few minutes, she peaked her head out of the birdfeeder and scrambled back to the trunk of the tree. Immediately, I refilled the bird feeder, hoping she’d find food to come back to, if her little beating heart would allow her. Damn squirrels. I’ve got to find a way to secure the plug closed.