Just One of the Guys

This morning, while taking the older boys to school, I hit a squirrel. I saw him dart out in front of me, but there was nothing I could do to avoid him because there was traffic in the oncoming lane and traffic behind me. I simply braced for impact and then hit him squarely with my front tire. I felt his tiny little body crunch beneath my wheels. I was sickened and sad. Poor little creature. He was just trying to make his way in a world where man is greedily encroaching on his habitat, forcing him into an ever shrinking and precarious living environment.

I've never hit anything before, except an unfortunate turtle, whom I thought to be a rock until the last moment, at which point, there was nothing I could do except to say "Oh shit, a turtle". I think he might have survived, since I only clipped his shell, and when I looked in the rear view mirrow, he was careening accross the road, upside down, but seemingly intact.

I have no such illusion about the squirrel.

My oldest son is extremely sensitive. He hates to see anyone or anything in pain and he doesn't deal well with death. In addition, he has a deep and abiding fondess for animals of any kind. He is a born nurturer and they bring out his protective and tender nature.

My father -in-law was a butcher by trade for most of his life, but 5 or 6 years ago, he started his own game processing business in the garage. Yes, it's exactly what you think it is, and yes, it's an exceedingly grisly undertaking. He does all manner of wild game, and occasionally, some road kill, but most of what he processes is deer. Georgia has a ridiculously long deer season, so he turns a pretty decent profit.

My niece is used to it. Her father hunts, and he also assists my father-in-law with the business. He can skin a deer with a few deft strokes and hack it into manageable pieces with only a couple well placed thunks. He once wrestled a wild boar and killed it by stabbing it in the heart. I know what you're imagining, but he's actually a very mild mannered, intelligent, and clean cut fella. Anyway... she has seen animal carcasses come and go in various stages of butchery, and various degrees of gruesomeness for years now. She has grown very blase about it all.

My children, however, are shocked and horrified by the entire enterprise. The first time that Pre-Pubescent One encountered a dead deer, strapped to the hood of an ancient automobile; tongue lolling, eyes glazed, and dripping blood from a fresh and steaming gash through which it's guts had been excised...he burst into tears. He was inconsolable for the remainder of the day, and regarded both my father-in-law and my brother-in-law with naked hostility for the duration of our stay. Since then, he has taken great care to stay well away from the garage when we visit during deer season.

You can understand then why I was concerned about how he might react to the fact that I had just made rodent pizza out of a cute and innocent woodland creature; one which is iconically benign and beloved.

Before I could glance back to gauge his reaction, I heard a loud guffaw from his friend and then...

"DUDE! That was AWESOME! Did you see his head pop off?"

To which Pre-Pubescent one responded enthusiastically,

"Yeah, Dude, his blood must've squirted about three feet!"

Looking in the rearview mirror, I could have sworn I saw a greenish tinge on his face. But he had passed whatever test he thought he had to pass, and so, in addition to the slightly verdant hue, he wore a look of satisfaction.

When I relayed the incident to Husband later that day, he nodded pensively. He never hunted, he never wanted to. And he understood why a 12 year old boy would feign ghoulish delight over the violent and bloody demise of that poor little squirrel. He understood that the male legacy of civilized violence is inescapable. And he understood that sometimes a guy has to sacrifice himself to the ideals that hold him captive with hackneyed definitions of manhood.

Sometimes, I'm really glad I'm a girl.