(obviously this doesn't include W.A.S.P.s - certainly never swatted any of them!).
I suppose living in the country it was inevitable, that at some point something would have to be despatched.
We've had an ongoing problem with squirrels (not the adorable, rare red variety, but grotty grey squirrels) and as friends of ours had their house totally flambe'd by squirrels, munching through electric cables in their roof, we are more than a little anxious about the damage these pests can do.
The Husband often does a little target practice on these beasts, but they are wiley creatures and avoid his best efforts (possibly his aim is a little off - but the opportunities inevitably arise when he has just got out of the shower, and he isn't exactly prepared for a hunting expedition.) Taking aim from the bedroom window whilst clinging to your bath towel probably isn't ideal.
I certainly never imagined I would have to take on that mantle.
This afternoon I took some scraps to our hens, I took some time out to fuss one of our Easter babies - now a full sized rooster!
While I sat on the grass tickling the rooster's tummy (he likes it) I spotted a squirrel on the other side of the electric fence. I growled at it and when it didn't move, I chased it away. I didn't imagine for a minute that it would reappear two minutes later giving me a squirrel version of the 'v' sign.
Other than throwing eggs at it (what a waste) I wasn't prepared for dealing with squirrels - so I shouted for the Hound.
The Hound's quarry is usually limited to tennis balls (she has a fetish for them), initially she was a bit slow to react. Thankfully she soon caught on to the concept of a new target and went for the 'tree rat'.
What then followed was a surprise - The dog went for the squirrel, withdrew, then the squirrel went for the dog, then played dead...only to launch another attack on the dog...then once again play dead.
This battle was vile - with me feeling increasingly desperate, hating every horrible second - if the husband had been at home he would have dealt with the situation.
My top concern was that the squirrel should be cleanly dispatched, and as the Hound was making a rather of a saga of it, someone else was going to have to do the deed....worst of all....
.....I suspected this person was me.
Not wanting to be the pathetic 'girlie wuss' I tried to think what he would do, so I ran and got his gun....ahh - problem - I didn't actually know what to DO with it!
Ugh, ghastly this was definitely not on my list of pleasurable summer afternoon activities. What to do? But call the Husband at work....
....of course his work colleagues thought it completely hysterical that his (obviously) loopy wife was calling him at the office to get operating instructions on firearms....especially funny that the aforementioned wife couldn't even work out if said gun was actually loaded
(WELL, I've never picked one up before).
Thankfully my first attempt was clean, quick - and the squirrel was no more.
Girlie wuss I might not be, but this hunting lark really isn't going to catch on with me - goodness only knows how much bad karma you get from polishing off a squirrel on behalf of a Hound who can only cope with chasing tennis balls?