I just saw a squirrel run past my kitchen window with a 3-inch zucchini in his mouth. My zucchini. That I grew with the sweat of my brow. Probably the same bastard that thwarted all my attempts at sowing lettuces. And robbed me of every single strawberry. Or at least one of the cohorts that conspire against me to prevent me from enjoying a fruitful harvest. I’ve never felt so violent towards wildlife before.