Aside from a single encounter this spring where I chased a squirrel down the fire escape in my underpants, I have not had a single tomato molestation all summer. My trap sits un-used.
Mike Sula hasn’t been so lucky. Writing for the Chicago Reader, he describes his squirrel jihad and his recommended solution to the problem: eat them. He’s got my full support.
“I stood staring at the enemy’s trophy, the familiar impotent rage rising. But the impulse to fall to my knees, gnash my teeth, and howl at the gods was stayed this time by a resolution I’d made earlier that spring. The squirrels may take my tomatoes and spit them back, but they would not go unanswered. The time had come to close the circle of life.”