.
The Squirrel Kill Incident
The squirrel and
its killer 
The aftermath
The truth:
According to Warren St. John (the alledged Squirrel Killer)
It's been a real hoot hearing and reading all the "accounts" of what happened regarding the squirrel killing at SKFC, since I was the camper who "killed" it with my guitar. Some of these accounts are rather fanciful to put it mildly. I'll set the record straight.
On Sat. afternoon at SKFC, I was sitting under an old Cedar tree practicing St. Anne's Reel (not Red Haired Boy or Salt Creek, as has been rumored.) with my trusty Bourgeois (y'all may remember, it was the replacement for the cracked Bourgie I bitched about a while back). Robin Bullock walked up and I said, Hey Robin, what's doin? and he said, "Looking for someone to pick with." So I said, well, let's pick. At that moment, a strange, foreboding noise emanated from the tree above. It sounded like thudding fur on tree branches. Robin and I looked up as the foreboding sound got louder and louder until, right between us -- Id say less than a foot away -- a squirrel kerplunks on the grass. It lands on its stomach and kind of looks like it's sleeping. Robin and I stare at the thing in stunned silence for a moment and realize that the squirrel is not sleeping, it's dead.
Immediately we began to speculate as to the cause of death. Robin suggested that the squirrel had blown his brains out, driven mad from hearing Red Haired Boy and Salt Creek more times than a small mammal could bear. We each confessed to being near that point ourselves, so it sounded plausible. I had another theory: the squirrel simply couldn't stand the sound of me practicing, and had commited suicide by plunging a knife in its breast. In the case of a squirrel, that would be "hairy"-kari. (Sorry folks.) At this point, I performed an autopsy with a stick. Rigor Mortis had not yet set in, suggesting that the time of death was indeed recent, as we had speculated. But there were no signs of trauma to the body of the squirrel.
Further analysis led to the official finding: my guitar killed the squirrel. A little background--my Bourgie is a wicked guitar. A lot of folks played it at camp, including Norman, and everyone who played it seemed taken aback by its incredible sound. Im not bragging here--it's sheer chance that I got this guitar, not any act of guitar-buying acumen on my part, since it was sent to me blind by the Bourgie folks. However it happened, I lucked out. This guitar produces mysterious, high powered frequencies, that in this case, thoroughly short circuited the nervous system of this poor squirrel, resulting in its sudden death. It just sort of zapped him. You've heard of "killer" guitars, well, this is what people are talking about when toss that term around.
The consequences: first of all, legally: none. It's okay in TN, and indeed mandatory in some counties, to kill squirrels. In fact, TN just passed a road kill law, so I assume it would have been okay to eat him, along with every possum or groundhog you can scrape off the pavement in that state. I passed, although given the food there at the Maryville College cafeteria...nevermind. I won't go there. Moral: I confess to feeling quite guitly about killing the squirrel. It was certainly nothing personal; I didn't know him, and I probably would have liked him if I had known him. So for that I feel terrible. I comfort myself by noting that we all have to go someday, and if you gotta go, you might as well be listening to a fiddle tune when it happens. Practical: I cannot play my Bourgie around pets or small wildlife from now on. Im even afraid to play it around my friends' kids. Some of you may think Im overreacting, but if you had watched helplessly as your guitar had killed an innocent squirrel, you'd be shaken as well, and cautious.
So there it is. I took some pictures of the Squirrel Killer, as my Bourgie shall henceforth be known, next to its prey, and I'll pass them along to Charlie Bryant, and if he has the macabre sensibility I suspect he does, the pics might appear on his Plectrolgy page. That's up to him. I also have a picture of Norman playing the Squirrel Killer, before it had bagged any game, and maybe he'll post that too.
So that's what happened, no matter what creative version of the tale may come your way.
According to Tommy Jordan (who was an eyewitness)
Just to set the record straight, the legend of the dead
squirrel is indeed based on a true, authentic occurance - in fact, much like the rumors
and hearsay currently circulating through the list ... here's what happened.
Saturday after lunch, Warren St. John was sitting on a chair under a big tree outside the
dining hall picking his guitar (it may well have been Red Haired Boy or Whiskey Before
Breakfast...). I was wandering by looking for a jam, so we started talking about just that
subject. Then, before too long, Robin Bullock walks up, also looking for someone to pick
with. Now, Warren was sitting in the sun, which was too hot for us, so we discussed moving
to a more shady spot. Suddenly, without warning,
THUMP!!!
A fat, dead squirrel falls of the tree, not 2 feet from where we were standing (see photo
above). Now this is not really an everyday occurrance in any of our lives and we were
surprised by it. In fact, it may well have been an omen, not unlike the cursed main stage
on Tuesday night (I think it was Tuesday - the night Russ Barenburg (among others)
played...) when everyone who played made one mistake. So we decided that maybe we should
jam over by that other tree over there...
It turned into a great jam, too.
And it should inspire a song with a title like "The Flatpicker Kills a Tree
Rat," or perhaps, "The Thumping of the Squirrel," (my personal favorite).
Let the legend live! Biscuit Dave's version, while steeped in myth and heroism, has but a
small ring of truth to it. It is, however, just as valid as the actual truth and should
therefore remain in the Annals of Kamp '99. As Robin might say, it is part of the folk
tradition for a story to continually evolve with each retelling. It'll be interesting to
see where it ends up.
I can state with some authority that The Squirrel Incident
(TSI) occurred at approximately 2:00-2:30pm Friday June 11, 1999.
The Hearsay
Biscuit Dave's Version - being the finest, fanciful
telling of the tale...
This has been mentioned before, but it's so good I can't
resist re-telling
it. Delete if you want to. Robin Bullock and a camper were playing
"Red-Haired Boy" while sitting on a picnic table under the shade of a large
oak tree in front of the cafeteria, or eatatorium. Robin is self-effacing,
quiet and a musical genius. He has a keen, but gentle wit; I enjoyed his
class and concert immensely. Robin reminds me of a young Albert Einstein
with a piano, guitar, mandolin, cittern, or any other stringed instrument
you can think of. (Where do you find such musically gifted and nice people
to teach us, SK?)
Anyway, Robin and the camper were passing "Red-Haired Boy" around for
about the eighth time (yeah, I been to camp 3 times and now I count in
eighths) when this crashing sound began to emanate from the top of the tree.
Furious picking from Robin and camper. Leaves started to shower down on the
table. More furious picking. Branches rain on the table. More picking.
Trunk starts to quake. Robin actually began to sweat at this point, I
think. Ground tembles. Robin actually began to bear down; smoke and a
sizzling sound come from the general proximity of Robin's LEFT hand. Then,
BOOM! A squirrel fell from the tree, landing flat on his back between the
two pickers.
Robin and the picker stopped. The squirrel, with both tiny front paws
clutched to his chest gazed upward and with his final breath said "I'm
coming to join you, 'lizbeth." And expired.
Robin and the picker shrugged, packed their axes, and were last seen
strolling the sidewalks of campus with smoke rising from their cases.
Really. Seriously.
Most of this really did happen. Warren St. John, the camper,
was sitting
under the tree. I performed final rites on the squirrel myself.
Biscuit Dave Jarvis
"A story worth telling is worth embellishing."
Checked the log from the Radio Flyer Express. Last rites
were
administered at 2:26 pm EST 11 June 1999. After an extended attempt to
resucitate the fallen rodent, CPR was abandoned. The patient was clearly
heard to be humming St. Anne's Reel immediately prior to his demise.
Biscuit Dave was assisted at the service by his brakeman, Mark Kaufman; his
chief engineer, Wisconsin Will; his conductor, Faith the Fiddler; and the
caboose, Gentle Glenn. The Radio Flyer Express pulled out at 2:39 pm to the
strains of "Lincoln's Funeral Train (The Sad Journey to Springfield)."
Really. Seriously.
Biscuit Dave Jarvis
Who has a soft spot for fallen comrades.
Several versions of the story circulated...
Gus:
Well, it finally happened, after playing "Red Haired Boy" a few hundred
times this week a poor old squirrel fell out of a tree, dead, nearly on top
of some pickers. They were playing this song when it happened.
Mike Maddox:
The squirrel incident that Gus refers to is now legend. Larry Robinson -
camper, MC, Chicago radio personality, and keen observer - suggested that
perhaps I could write a song about the dead squirrel. I'm thinking
something along the lines of the tune "Indian Killed a Woodcock". Perhaps
"Flatpicker Kills a Squirrel".
El Guapo:
Flatpicker Kills a Tree Rat. Down here we call'em "tree rats".
Mike Lambert:
As I recall Sunday morning about 3:30am, I met the picker who caused the death
of this poor squirrel. It seems that Warren St. John (and I do hope I remember
his name correctly), was playing some hot licks and the poor varmit fell dead at
his feet. Its a good thing Tennessee just passed a new law giving permission to
eat road kill. But wait this is a whole different matter, back to the
legislature boys!!!
Linda Thomas
Also, a word about "The Squirrel Incident!!" -- There was actually a
fleeting moment (when someone pointed out the fallen victim to me) that
I thought perhaps I should call a maintenance person to remove the
deceased from the immediate grounds of the jam session. However, in
view of the homage shown the little fellow, I'm so glad I let you all
have a chance to pay your last respects....Linda Thomas, Kamp Kashier
Skip Laney
Are we sure the squirrel didn't die in a state of ecstasy from the sight of so
many nuts in one place?
Tad Gilster
Seminal events require fitting memorials.
While trying to recover from SKFC and lots of miles on the road I've been
thinking about Warren's safari. As the actual event fades from our
collective memory, what will remain is a legend, far greater than the
actual sciurus-cide. And, as all pickles know, legends must be
commemorated.
I'm thinking that a tasteful inlay, perhaps at the 12th fret of Warren's
Bourgie, might be just the ticket. Just think about it. Squirrel Killer.
It works, doesn't it? I'll kick in $5. Anyone else interested? Oh, BTW,
Warren, what do you think?
I may have had better ideas. Tad
I think Warren needs a tattoo of a squirrel holding a
plectrum on his
biceps. Waddaya think Warren?
... how does a squirrel hold a plectrum on its
biceps? do squirrels have biceps? Do they do curls to build 'em up or
squirrels?
I think Warren is willing to authorize a Squirrel inlay fund and will
subject his guitar to inlay implant surgery. I understand your point --
guitars don't kill squirrels, people do -- but think that
there may be
something mystical to the powers of Warren's Bourgie, justifying the
symbolism of the inlay.
Warren St. John replies:
I would be willing to get an inlay of a small sillouetted squirrel on the neck if the gang
was behind it. My fear is that if I kill other squirrels with the guitar I might be
expected to put more squirrel inlays in the neck of the thing like WWII pilots who painted
Japaneese flags on their fuselages for each enemy plane they bagged. Pretty soon the thing
might have more mother of pearl in it than Jimmy Martin's guitar. I'm telling you, the
damn thing is dangerous.
John Holman
It sounds like the poor squirrel succumbed to acute (St. Anne's)
tripletsitis. If someone had just thought to play some quarter notes they
could have saved him.
David Phillips
You know we have a problem with squirrels with attitudes up here at
Columbia U. Maybe you could come uptown and pick a little to help us out. How
are you with Pigeons?
Bryan Kimsey
If the squirrel died as a result of your Bourgey, you're assuming it was
due to _superior_ tone, right? Ever seen those electronic mole chasers
that work by emitting a high frequency, very irritating, noise?
Hmmm..??
<he, he>
I will tell you all this: last Saturday, I was practicing SRV on my Strat
when I looked out the window and happened to notice that there was a bear
on my front deck. Now, how many of you have called in large predators with
your guitars? Maybe he was looking for dead squirrels.
Seattle Todd
What you may have been groping was the passage from the Bhagavad-gita that
J. Robert Oppenheimer muttered to himself as he watched the first successful
atomic bomb test on July 16, 1945: "I am become death, the destroyer of
worlds."
Of course, not even Oppy dared to dream of a tactical squirrel-killing
device.
Carl McIntyre
Did anyone actually get up close and smell the squirrel to see if it was indeed dead?
There's a rumor going around that it wasn't really. Some folks believe that the squirrel
had just eaten way too much fried okra and was sleeping it off. Others think the okra may
have been comtaminated with WD-40, (for those of you who keep up with the mando list). If
the WD-40 theory is correct, it may be possible that the squirrel was simply in a deep
coma. Was the corroner called? I personally would like to see the death certificate so I
can clear this issue up in my mind once and for all.
BTW, I guess I must be a member of OTIS now. I have a new
35' D-18 with a t#%d brown finish on the top. It sounds really great but I haven't given
it the squirrel test yet. It is also way to the other extreme of immaculate. In fact it
looks like some fool tied it to the back bumper of the car and drug it down the gravel
road. It was deader than a squirrel when it came in. The top was broken completely out on
each side of the fretboard and the transverse brace was missing altogether. The way it
wiggled, at first I thought it was an accordion. Guitars can be brought back from the
dead. After two weeks of intensive surgery, it began to spit notes once more. it's
first in over twenty years according to the gentleman I got it from. Now back to the
squirrel, if he wasn't faking it, I probably can't do much for him. We had a dead rabbit
back when I was a kid and we tried and tried to fix him with the bicycle pump but it was
all to no avail. Man I'm glad my D-18 wasn't that for gone. I'll take it home this weekend
and give it the old squirrel test. I'll report back on Monday.
Scott Gantt
I can verify without hesitation that the squirrel in question, had indeed, gone the way of
all flesh. Mark Kalinski and I were standing there listening Dan Leibler and Mark Cosgrove
doing some mighty fine picking, when Mark K. pointed out the expired nut chiseler on the
other side of the tree. Numerous flies were munching on the deceased tree rat. No doubt
about it......the squirrel was taking a dirt nap.
An interesting note: I had been listening to the jam just prior to the original incident
and would have had photographic evidence had I stayed a bit longer.
Robert Harris
OK. Thats just about enough for me. Thanks for all the squirrel stories, guys. Anyone know
the address for a guitar list please email me offline.
John Brahman
Good grief! This is ridiculous. If nobody has anything to say about flatpicking, what's
the use of this list? We just need to rename it squirrelstories-L. Well, I'm through
spouting for now.
