But the frozen squirrels weren't in June. I just said that in June. And all because of a wonderful fun entry over in cmpriest's LJ Land, here at this very spot talking about mummified squirrels in Seattle. In June.
Which is what made me think about Frozen Squirrels. Not Frozen Squrrl, who is one of my Border Collies. Though I think he would appreciate Frozen Squirrels.
Once upon a galaxy far, far away, Oh My Children, I would wander through a place called the Knowne Worlde, and hie myself from another place called the Barony of An Crosaire. This is located in the Kingdom of Trimaris, which is of course the SCA name for Baja Jorja.
Now, the true anniversary date for the founding of the Shire (and later, the elevation to Baronial status) of An Crosaire (which means Crossroads in Gaelic, if you're interested. It still means Crossroads in Gaelic if you're not interested, but if you're not we won't be talking about that.) is to be found in the month of February. In fact, if memory serves, the original date was indeed St. Valentines Day, February 14. And so of course the name for the event had to be the St. Valentines Massacre.
Powers that be have since granted this date to some other upstart group, totally dissing any History which a Barony might command, and pretty much exhibiting the kind of attitude that I've come to believe currently exists in Trimaris, which is why I so very rarely play in the Knowne Worlde anymore. So now An Crosaire celebrates the St. Valentines Massacre in like April or May or some such. Be that as it may, we are talking about the original, the only, February St. Val's Events.
We used to use a private (public, but privately owned and operated) campground over past Trenton called Otter Springs. (There's those Otters again...) And while this is Baja Jorja, I gently remind you, Oh My Children, that it is North Central Baja Jorja. We do get cold here, cold enough to freeze still water, cold enough to keep still water frozen for a week sometimes. Which may seem as nothing to folk in Alaska, or Siberia, or Nebraska. Much less Minnesota. But it's pretty cold for those that are born and bred to the location, and that includes the squirrels.
Now there were a few St. Vals where it remained warm, to whit the mercury did not drop below 40 degrees Fahrenheit. A few. Pretty much the wise planned on bringing things like goose down sleeping bags, and fur-lined cloaks, and boots that would accept extra socks, and definitely hats. Now, my personna, Tsuji, being a Japanese from the late 16th Century and therefor familiar with the Portuguese Nambam, even Tsuji was known to bring a wonderful full circle full length hooded cloak, which worked very well for keeping warm because several ladies could share the cloak with him at the same time. BUT, Oh My Children, I digress.
It could not be considered a Successful St. Vals, regardless of what other revelry took place, not allowing who might win the Lyst to be the Baronial Champion, despite whatever vast quantities of alcoholic beverages disapeered down the various and sundry gullets of teh Populace... unless a frozen squirrel fell out of the trees on either, or both, Saturday and Sunday mornings. No Frozen Squirrel, and the event must be deemed a failure. Extra bonus points could be awarded if the Frozen Squirrel fell on someone's head. Double bonus points if more than one Frozen Squirrel fell from the boughs of the Live Oaks and Hollys.
Most definitely no points for no Frozen Squirrels.
There are at least two, possibly three people on my FList who may attest to my veracity, Oh My Children. On my Honour, Frozen Squirrels. In Baja Jorja. In February.