The Squirrel War part 2

This is part 2; please scroll down to read part 1

When I was growing up, there were no Squirrels in town. So maybe the beginning of the War was when we got our first Squirrels, though it is difficult to know when something actually starts; ask any historian. As with trees, the roots go deep and are unseen. And, there are more than one or two roots. So, the beginning might also be traced back to the start of civilization, the first towns and cities. Living close to people is help full, but also the source of difficulties. In the country, where there are vast open stretches and neighbors see little of each other, they are usually real glad to get together. You know the saying: Familiarity breeds contempt.
Especially in a small town. Everybody knows everybody's business, plus made-up stuff.
"People talk," to quote Mr. Gramm (one of his longer quotes, by the way.)
Anyway, you got to take the bad with the good, but to see a town rent apart like this....

As a kid, I roamed everywhere. You know how boys are, they walk for miles on a whim and only come back when hunger drives 'em home. My mother worked at the grocery store, late, so I had a lot of what is now referred to as: unstructured time. Oh, I had chores and homework, but I studiously ignored these nuisances, or if I did them, only with a heroic reluctance.

One of my favorite stops was Mr Gramm's house. Actually, his workshop. He was retired from the railroad and after breakfast would shuffle to his domain, while Mrs. Gramm reigned in the house. He spent all day "puttering" or tending the garden. They had a large, orderly plot of vegetables, fruit and nut trees. Even an apricot tree, though I never saw an apricot on it. For lunch, he made a ritual of opening a can of sardines and with soda crackers, a "man's meal", as he instructed me. When we shared lunch, I felt glowy-happy inside and my legs would bounce in rhythm to my chewing. Sometimes, on hot afternoons, he would send me to buy 'provisions'. A cold bottle of beer for him and a cold soda pop for me. His instructions were always the same. "You can run to the store, but you must walk back, and walk very carefully." He would then add: "I am counting on you." I guess he learned that if you want a well shaken beer, give it to a kid and have them run it around the block. Anyway, we would sit in the shade of a walnut tree, each sipping from a bottle, making manly sounds of appreciation.
Mr. Gramm was sort of an inventor and had many projects going at any time. He was good at making machines work. He built his own radio and I marveled at the glowing tubes that rose like highrises amongst resistors and capacitors. He seemed to be able to fix anything and could create something from a pile of scrap.
Harvesting nuts is a tedious process that involves a lot of bending over. Though he was good at machines, Mr. Gramm was not good at bending over. He also was not good at animals, as we were soon to see. He didn't even have a dog. What he did have was: a creative spirt and a sense for ignoring the obvious. That's how we got the squirrels. He got it in his head to train squirrels to gather nuts. From a mail order catalog, he ordered a breeding pair. He would raise Squirrels, train them and sell them to nut farms to harvest wall nuts, filberts or whatever. He was very excited and I helped him build the squirrel house and training ground. He explained that squirrels are real hard workers and can harvest way more than they can eat. And they are prolific. I didn't know what prolific meant, but would soon get an understanding.
In the presence of unlimited food, squirrels respond with the same zest and zeal as rabbits. The females appear to be born pregnant and by the following spring, Mr. Gramm was neck-deep in critters. His initial exitement turned sour, as the squirrels refused to be trained, putting all their energy into being prolific. His mood only brightened after the "prison break".

I had avoided visiting Mr. Gramm that winter for two reasons. He was in a real short mood and I had discovered something very unsettling about myself. Of all the repulsive creatures on this planet, and there was a surplus of them at school, I discovered I actually liked the company of the most repulsive. Her name was Veronica.