Copyright © 2001 - 2015  All Photos, text, materials on this site are copyrighted to Rocky Mountain Profiles for the exclusive use of Rocky Mountain Profiles and  Michael J. Sinnwell.  

Home About Us Contact Us Ghost town Books Links of interest
Ghost Towns by State Site Search Tales from the Past Guest Book

And then the fight began.


Well, it has been one heck of a day. My sides hurt so badly I can hardly move. I got a backache that won’t quit, a toe that points in the wrong direction, and a head that feels like someone is inside pounding to get out. On top of that my wife is mad at me for not doing my weekly chores.

It all started with one of my trips to the basement to engage in my weekly chores, the dreaded vacuuming was next on the agenda.  As I walked past the glass sliding door I casually glanced towards the squirrel toss anchored nearby outside. Now this is no ordinary squirrel toss, this is a locally manufactured device assembled by skilled craftsman who can complete any job in twice the time. Or is that, anyone else can complete the job in half the time. I forget.

Anyway, lo and behold, there near the locally manufactured by skilled craftsman squirrel toss, now known as the LMSCST, was a locally raised squirrel. I was in big trouble. I was terribly out of position to initiate a launch sequence. The glass door was locked; the string was threaded through the door but at least 8 feet away. Even if I reached it in time I could not pull the string with the door closed.

Oh, what to do? The only thing was to attempt to sneak around and open the glass door just enough to loosen the string for the initiation of the launch sequence. I slowly started to round the coffee table when my little toe struck the foot of the three-ton table.  My toe moved but the table did not. I was soon hopping around banging into obstacles and falling over furniture.

As I came crashing to the floor I glanced up to see the locally raised squirrel run away. He was having trouble as he kept falling over from laughing. I swore softly, I will get you, you little ba$!$%.  I decided then and there to dedicate some significant time to the LMSCST. I rolled over towards the string and the glass sliding door. I eased up to my knees and unlocked the door. I slid it open a half inch and tested the string. All okay, now all I need is a locally raised squirrel.

Many parts of my body were already hurt and beginning to bruise but even laying down on the floor did not seem to ease the pain. But alas, a returning locally raised squirrel, now known as Smedlap, was cautiously returning. This was too good to be true. I lay still holding the string in one hand and peeking around the corner at the LMSCST.

Could I have such luck and Smedlap would seat himself on the launch pad.  Well, yes, but not for about 45 minutes. By now much of my body was growing numb from lack of blood flow.  Now!  my brain shouted at me. I pulled the string with a sharp yank just as Smedlap decide to stand up.

That was definitely a mistake on Smedlap’s part. Instead of a nice launch he was sent cartwheeling through the air. He must have done at least a dozen full gainers and then, thud.  Not sure where that tree came from, but there it was. Smedlap bounced off, ran around in circles shaking his head, then he ran up the tree he smacked and promptly fell out of the tree. By this time I was getting a little nervous that I might have harmed poor Smedlap. Not to worry, as Smedlap got up and started chasing the other squirrels that were hanging around trying to figure out how Smedlap could do cartwheels like that.

As for me I was not so lucky.  I was laughing so hard I think a pulled every muscle in my body. I had to lay down to rest and then I fell asleep thinking, I can do my chores later.

Shortly thereafter my wife came home from grocery shopping—and then the fight began.