(Image: Angry Squirrel Source: NPR)
(Note: This biography is a continuation of my last squirrel story, which was getting a little long. I figured breaking it up might add some suspense. I've written this story in the exact same diary-esque format. I did my best to make the ending of the story as intense as possible, but the squirrel didn't actually attack me, so there was only so much I could do!)
I just tried to ignore the creature at this point. It clearly saw me as an invader, and I just proved its point by assaulting the thing. If the squirrel was willing to accept peace then so was I. The squirrel was not willing to accept peace. It was ready to go scorched earth on me. The awful sound it was making was one thing, but the squirrel had yet to unveil its final weapon. A leaf fell to the ground near my hammock. At least I thought it was a leaf. It happened again. And again. I realized the impact noises were too heavy to just be leaves, but the tree had no acorns. Something was falling on me. I began looking along the ground. There I found a small brown pellet. With great trepidation, I looked up once more. It was staring at me, its butt pointed in my direction. I kid you not. It was pooping on me.
I grabbed four or five pinecones in a blind fury. I began tossing them up at the squirrel again, this time, I wasn't sure whether or not I was trying to scare it off, or pinecone the smirk off its stupid squirrel face. The squirrel didn't budge; it could clearly tell I couldn't aim to save my life. I had to resort to drastic action. I'm not even that ashamed to admit it, I started to climb the tree. While the squirrel would clearly have the advantage in close combat, I hoped my size would scare it off. I honestly didn't have much of a plan at this point.
I slowly approached the squirrel. It glared at me, but its eyes betrayed a glimmer of fear. I had only brought one pinecone with me. I fired at it but missed at point-blank range. The two-pound squirrel raised its hackles at me; the tableau was a primal reminder of when man hunted such creatures for his very survival. I reached the branch on where the squirrel was perched. I shook with all my might. The creature dug its claw in. It's flinty eyes challenged me to move ever closer. I shimmied up the branch, still shaking. The conflict was coming to ahead. The squirrel's only move was to strike at me while I was vulnerable. I saw a flash of tail. I closed my eyes and shook as hard as I could. When I opened them the squirrel was gone. Maybe he was never there.
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