Well, this is awkward.

Ever since I advocated eating squirrels last week in order to protect tomato plants from the little terrorists, I’ve received lots of advice from readers:

Plant rosebushes around your tomatoes.
Put out rat poison.
Get a watchdog.
Get a guard cat.
Get a wrist rocket.
Squirrels are just thirsty. Put a bowl of water under your plants and they’ll leave your tomatoes alone.

Turns out, this year it hasn’t been a problem at all. Last week, I sustained my first—and so far only—squirrel attack, on a small green cherry that might never have ripened anyway this late in the season. You’re welcome, little fella.

That went against all my expectations for this season. I’d been carefully watching the squirrels throughout our mild, practically springlike winter with growing trepidation. They were everywhere, in terrifying numbers, grotesquely fat, furry little plumpers swarming the naked parks and alleys unblanketed by snow.