Houston, we have an "animal" problem.

Those of you with spouses or mothers will know exactly what I'm talking about when I mention the "something's wrong" voice.  In the past, I have heard it too often for comfort. Thus, when I hear it now it strikes fear into my heart - when I hear the "something's wrong" voice, I immediately get irritated.

This morning, when Laur came in from checking the birds she called to me.  "Please come here. We have a bit of an issue - an animal issue."  I'd checked the birds not 2 hours ago and knew there was nothing serious, and yet there was a tone in her voice, verging on panic, that irritated me immediately.

I sighed heavily and plodded down the stairs, certain that whatever was the matter was going to be neither fun nor clean.

Laur motioned towards the coops. "There," she said, "it's in there. There's a squirrel in the feed bin."

I sighed again, grabbed my rubbers and continued plodding out the door and down the hill.  This is what awaited me.

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