I'll Never Stop Trying

A family

Eating meat is wrong.  I'm sure of it.  There are a lot of grey areas out there.  But I'm convinced that it's wrong to eat meat.  I've written this before, and nothing has changed.  There are exceptions.  I wouldn't criticize a mentally disabled person for eating meat.  I wouldn't criticize certain people, who only know hunting and living off the land as means of survival, for eating meat: nor the very young or very old.  But, I firmly believe that the vast majority of people in this world are wrong to eat meat. 
Last night, I spent time with friends at a friend's house that's right on Lake Ontario.  It's a beautiful place to be.  I love it there.  I had a great time.  There was a bonfire, which I love.  It was a great night.  A man came to the house that I don't know well.  He's a nice guy.  I thought I had met him once before, but he seemed to think it was more than that: no matter.  We got along quite well.  I don't recall exactly how, but the subject of meat and/or my veganism came up in the conversation.  I relished the opportunity to let someone know that I think it's wrong to eat meat.  However, this time, I remembered that you can get more flies with honey than with vinegar.  I was determined to not get angry: or at least to not display any anger.  I drank, so it's a little bit fuzzy, but we had a good conversation about the subject.  I mentioned that I feel all the animals of the world are my sisters and brothers, and I really do feel that way.  I recall that he disagreed with me with a smile on his face.  It seemed to not matter what I said,  he just didn't feel the same way about animals that I do.  The last time I had a discussion about this subject, I yelled at my friend and pissed him off enough for him to avoid me for over a month.  That's not what happened this time.  The conversation never became heated.  He flashed his pearly white smile the whole time (I wonder if those teeth are real.).  Anyway, I tried.  I tried to get my point across in a civilized manner.  Gandhi and Martin Luther King were not known for being angry jerks.  They knew it wasn't a good idea to be like that.  They wanted to change the world, and they did.  They are real heroes.      

Where's Penny?

Lucinda

I haven't seen any groundhogs for at least a few days: maybe even a week.  I hope Penny is okay.  I miss seeing her.  Maybe she went with an early hibernation.  I've read that groundhogs start hibernating after the first frost, which I'm pretty sure hasn't happened here yet.
It always cheers me up to see groundhogs.  A day without groundhogs is like a day without sunshine.  They make my life better.
At least I've still got the squirrels.  I like them too.  I've been thinking about feeding them again.  I haven't done it in a while.  I've seen the food that some of my neighbors have left out for birds and squirrels: stuff like white bread, white rice, and even Pringles.  I wouldn't give them processed foods like that.  I'd only give them pure, unsalted nuts: preferably still in the shell.  It's fun to toss a whole walnut to a squirrel and see her seize it between her paws.
Some people think people shouldn't feed wild animals.  We shouldn't make them dependent on us, but I think the occasional, healthy, whole walnut would make a nice treat for them.
Well, there's not much more to say.  Think of animals as your brothers and sisters.  Treat them well.  Don't eat them.   

I Love Penny

Got your back.

I finally named her.  She may be the last groundhog left in this immediate area.  There might be another, but she rules the territory around my windows.  It is possible that she has chased all her sisters and her mother away.  She has claimed the hole she grew up in as her own.  The hole is right next to the building I live in.  The first groundhog I ever named, Sheila, used to live in this hole.  Anyway, her name is Penny.  I think it fits her well.  She's very cute, but, then again, the vast majority of them are.  She's been frightened a little too much lately.
The birds were driving me crazy.  Whoever designed the kitchen fans in these buildings is a real dummy.  Birds seem to think they make perfect bird houses.  Since I love animals, I put up with them for the longest time.  Thump!  That's the sound of a bird landing behind the kitchen fan.  You could hear that several more times than you would ever want to in any given day.  Chirp, chirp, chirp!  Birds make so much noise.  Especially baby birds, who are probably saying "Feed me!" most of the time.  I'd finally had enough.  They made so much noise on a daily basis; they were driving me nuts.  I began to try to scare them away.  They'd make their noise, then I would go over to the fan and tap hard on the outside of it: hoping it would scare them away.  It was just a temporary solution, though.  They always came back.  I called the office about it.  The office manager said they can put a cover on it, but they don't like to, because the fan keeps the units from getting too smoky.
I said, "I don't care about that; these birds are driving me crazy!"  Besides, I don't fry, or burn, anything.  I bake potatoes, boil pasta, and so on.  I never do any smoky cooking.  So they put the cover on.  Things were fine for months, but I recently heard the birds again.  I went outside to look, and, sure enough, the cover came off and was hanging open on one side.  But when I went outside to look, I scared Penny.  She had been grazing, and she ran into her hole when she saw or heard me.  So I called the office again and asked them to put the cover back on.  But the next day, I kept hearing the birds.  Since I saw one of the maintenance guys spraying freakin' bushes, instead of covering my fan, I called the office again to say that no one had done it.  I was told it would be done that day.  I went for a walk.  When I returned, I checked to see if the fan had been covered.  Poor Penny, I scared her again.  She dove into her hole.  But then she stuck her head out to look around: very cute.  Finally, the fan was covered.  And no birds were trapped inside.  There were none in there at the time; I checked.  

Worse Than I Thought

I think these youngsters have been chased away from here.

I realized today, with sadness, that Betsy might have chased all of her children away except for Runty.  Lately, I've only seen her fat ass and Runty.  It's so sad the way groundhogs come and go around here.  Well, it's not sad when they arrive, but it certainly is when they go.  I haven't seen 4 of her children in quite a while. 
I gave Runty that name because he has the thinnest fur of any groundhog I've ever seen.  I have previously referred to Runty as a female, but I have a feeling he's a male.  I assumed he was female, because that's the way I do things.  If I don't know the sex of an animal, I assume that he or she is a female, because lots of people seem to be more protective of their sisters, mothers, wives, girlfriends, and daughters.  I saw a documentary about one of the founders of PETA: Ingrid Newkirk.  She said that animals are never its; they're hes or shes.  I agree wholeheartedly. 
There's plenty of grass for lots of groundhogs, but I guess Betsy doesn't feel that way.  I suppose her children aren't cute enough for her anymore.  I love her, but I don't love her mothering technique.
I sure hope Runty's fur grows in well eventually.  I don't want him to be too cold when winter comes.  Who could he snuggle with?  His mother Betsy?  Perhaps not.  She might be the worst groundhog mother I've ever seen. 
I did read what this guy wrote.  He wrote that groundhogs kill em' all and let god sort them out.  I've seen plenty of groundhog on groundhog violence, and I think I've seen lots of battle scars on little groundhogs.  It's so sad.  They're so cute, but they're lives are filled with fear and violence.  Again, I draw the line when it comes to human on groundhog violence.  I'm willing to get into a fistfight to protect a groundhog or any animal.  They're my brothers and sisters.  They belong on this planet at least as much as we do.
Okay now, black people have demanded their rights and gotten them.  Same thing with women: and now gay people.  It's the animal's turn: all of them.

Stoned to Death

Fear not the bad man anymore, baby groundhog.

Bumpkin found out about what the evil elderly man did to the baby groundhogs; he threw rocks at them.  I'm sure he never imagined how he sealed his fate with the first rock he threw.  He angered the most powerful sentient being in the history of the world.  She got up early and waited for the nasty man to walk by.  She stared out the window for hours.  She saw him.  She levitated rocks from all over the area.  Once they were in the air, they hurtled at great speed toward the man.  He was shocked.  He was pelted over and over again with rocks.  He tried to cover his head and run, but he was constantly being hit by rocks.  Bumpkin did not want him to run away.  He was going to die; that was certain.  Bumpkin wanted him to die within sight of the hole where the baby groundhogs and their mother were attacked by him.  She sent 2 rocks at hyper velocity toward the man's kneecaps.  The rocks shattered them.  He had no choice but to crumple to the ground.  Rocks continued to hit him mercilessly.  He continued to cover his head with his arms.
"Suffer if you want to," said Bumpkin.  She increased the speed of the rocks that hit him.  Blood stained the man's white shirt.
Sweetpea poked her sweet little head out of the hole to see what was going on.
"That's right, Sweetpea," Bumpkin said.  "Come on out and watch the bad man die.  He won't try to hurt you or your sisters anymore.  He's going to die."
Sweetpea came out of the hole and so did her mother and sisters.  They watched as the man's body continued to be struck by rocks.  Sweetpea scampered over to the man.  By this time, he had lost a lot of blood.  Sweetpea dipped her front left paw into a pool of blood and began to write on the sidewalk.
"I knew it," said Bumpkin.  "I knew that Sweetpea is far from being the average groundhog."
Sure enough, Sweetpea wrote her name on the sidewalk using the bad man's blood.  When she was finished, she calmly crawled onto the grass and began to eat.
"Now the circle is complete," said Bumpkin.  "Sweetpea and I have enough power between us to conquer the universe.  I'm sure of it."
The man continued to bleed.  In fact, he bled out and perished where he fell.
"Good riddance," declared Bumpkin.   

New Babies!

One of the new babies.

What a great spring already.  Daisy, Bumpkin's daughter, gave birth to 5 babies!  They are scared of so much.  You only have so much time to get a picture of them while feeding, because most noises scare the babies into running back to the family hole as fast as possible.  One got real cuddly with her mommy.  They are cute as hell.  I hope the system will let me upload the pics.  If not, I'll have to look into troubleshooting.  These babies need to be seen.
Bumpkin, Sloopy, and Lucinda have spent a lot of time looking at them from the windows.  They all love the babies.  Bumpkin is so moved, that she's postponed her war with humans for control of the world.  She is full of peace and love.  She's been listening to The Beatles' "All You Need Is Love" repeatedly.  She's been listening to "Strawberry Fields Forever" quite a bit too.  The sisters keep sighing and fawning all over the cute little babies.
I saw something troubling this week, though.  I'd seen plenty of squirrels shimmying across the telephone wire in front of my windows before.  But I noticed a squirrel racing across the wire.  There was a good reason for this.  She was being pursued and attacked by 2 sparrows.  What craziness.  I was rooting for the squirrel.
I heard Sloopy and Lucinda squeal with delight.  I rushed to the bedroom.  Sure enough, Bumpkin had teleported 2 of the babies into the bedroom.  At first, they were a little scared.  Suddenly, they were indoors for the first time.  But then they saw the loving looks coming from the sisters.  Bumpkin and Lucinda are cuddling with the babies.  Sloopy started to make whiny noises, so Bumpkin brought another baby up for her to cuddle with.  Now each sister had her very own groundhog baby to cuddle and play with.
"Hey Bumpkin," I said.  "Could you please bring the other 2 babies and Daisy up now?  Daisy might get worried if she can't find her babies.  Then, I'd have a baby to cuddle with too."
"Okay," she replied.  She did it.  Now there were 9 groundhogs in my apartment.  "Let's have a party," she said.
"Sure Bumpkin," I said.  Should I bring out the sod and wheatgrass?"
"But of course," replied Bumpkin, "turnips and radishes too please."
"You got it ma'am." 

Curse of Bumpkin

Is Bumpkin evil?

Beware thee the Curse of Bumpkin, for tis a powerful one!  Damn you!  Damn you, cursed brain, for coming up with the perfect name for a baby groundhog: Bumpkin.  The pursuit of perfection sometimes leads to madness.  I named her so innocently.  I knew not what I was doing.  I created a monster!  I named her then went about my business.  I was watching a DVD when "Bumpkin" popped into my head.  Yes, it's a cute name for a baby groundhog; now let's get back to the DVD.  However, a few minutes later, Bumpkin popped into my head again.  Yes, I know, Bumpkin: wonderful, great, now let's move on.  But I couldn't move on.  I can 't go five minutes without thinking of Bumpkin!  She's in my head, and she's controlling my thoughts!
Whatever you do, never, never, never, even if a gun is pointed at your head (even if a baby groundhog is wielding the gun), name a baby groundhog Bumpkin.  Don't make the same mistake I did.  If you do, you will surely live to regret it.  I know, because I have sowed the wind, and now I am reaping the whirlwind.  When you can't go five minutes without Bumpkin in your brain, you are a step away from complete, unadulterated madness!
No, Bumpkin!  I will not shed blood for you!  You don't need blood!  You eat grass.  No Bumpkin!  I will not write your name on the sidewalk in spilled blood!  And I won't forget to dot the "i."  Wait a second!  I won't dot the "i," because I'm not doing it at all!  I'll do no such thing!  You don't need that!  I know it was me who named you!  What does that have to do with writing your name using the blood of an innocent, pray tell?  You are completely out of control, Bumpkin.  Remember the days when you were content to be cute, eat grass, and play with your sisters?  Please, I beg you, return to your carefree, innocent ways.  I can't take the pressure anymore!  Please get out of my head!  No!  You do not need blood!  Please free me, Bumpkin!  Please free me from your magic baby groundhog spell!