Rodent Relocation

It’s squirrel trapping season again.

Even after paying a roofer to reshingle portions of my home vandalized by these rodents, I just can’t bring myself to kill my captors. I consider them worthy adversaries. Twice daily, I drive 1.6 miles through three major intersections to release the varmints in a public park.

Most bolt out of the cage and make a beeline for a stand of trees along a creek. Others pause to click and growl at me for a few seconds before they seek security. Even though I don’t speak squirrel, I understand perfectly well what they’re telling me.

I doubt the wisdom of my leniency when the occasional rodent immediately turns back toward my Prairie Village home. It’s evident that they don’t intend to stop running until they’ve returned. Only then do I rethink my failure to initiate a drowning campaign.