There's an army of worms, millions strong, munching their way through dozens of giant oaks. You can hear them chewing, as well as their poop dropping like light rain on leaves. You can't stand under an oak too long or you'll be covered in worms. We have to take our clothes off before we enter the house.
|Munched up leaves|
I wasted a lot of water blasting them off our house before our nursery man next door tells us there's nothing we can do and it doesn't affect the oaks. "All you can do is let them do through their cycle."
Big Dog's been shoving smoke bombs into squirrel holes but they only have a temporary effect. New squirrels quickly find the old holes and move right in. Shiftless squatters!
Maybe our ranch is Gansta Squirrel Ghetto now. They're tough. They don't mind a few decomposing bodies at all.
"What's that nasty stench, man?"
"Oh, that's just Henry, my brother who died in the last bombing."
|One of the gangstas diving into his hole.|
Labels: nature, Ranch