Messages from on high

A squirrel crapped on my head this morning. I was just traipsing along, minding my own nature-loving business when something bigger than a raindrop but smaller than an acorn landed on my head. I saw the culprit just before he struck. He was munching on a piece of tree bark, doing that innocent woodland creature thing, but I know better. That bombing was no accident. We were out in the middle of the woods, I was in motion, he was a good 15 feet up a tree, and yet he landed a direct hit. What are the odds?

Last year on my birthday a squirrel peed on me. I don't want to be paranoid or anything, but this is beginning to look like a conspiracy. I just can't figure out why the squirrels have it in for me. I've always been a friend of Sciurus carolinensis. I preach against squirrel-proof birdfeeders, and I've risked my life countless times braking for the little dudes when they do those kamikaze runs across the highway. I did shoot at a squirrel once, but I was a kid and my dad was aiming the gun for me. And anyway, we missed. Is that any reason hold a grudge all these years?

Then again, maybe it's bigger than squirrels. I was once walking along with a friend when a bird crapped on her head, and she said "It's like being shit on by God." At the time I thought she was being a little melodramatic, but now I'm not so sure. Maybe manna isn't the only thing that falls from heaven, and Yahweh is trying to tell me something.

Not that I have any intention of listening. I've put in decades of blasphemy, and broken seven of the ten commandments. If my punishment is a single squirrel turd in my hair, then the jealous God isn't half as tough as he's cracked up to be. But I'm still gonna keep an eye out for those squirrels.


Photo from Wikimedia Commons