Bests & Worsts Reviews from Amazon

Every year we have a 100 year old fig tree producing the best tasting figs i have ever tasted! i don't even eat or like figs, but these are so wonderful! And, every year, the squirrels attack in a coordinated rush right at the moment they are ripe and ready to pick! They must have some squirrel spies in our attic and let every other squirrel in the state of Texas knows that we are going out there to pick figs. My husband and I run towards the tree at the same time as the squirrels, legs pumping, sweating, arms reaching out, every muscle screaming in pain, just one fig!! But, always, the hordes of squirrels know our plan, and they descend, falling from other trees, jumping off roofs and telephone wires, pouring in waves over the back fence, teeth bared, tails bushed out, screeching their war cry, unstoppable and terrifying: FIG FRENZY!!! We don't give up, desperately inching our way across the yard towards the tree... my husband goes down! instantly, he disappears under a masses of angry fur and nutty breath...i know he's down, no fig for him, but i must press on, almost there! A rogue squirrel misses his mark, leaping from a flagpole across the street, he falls, hitting me on the shoulder, then clinging, shouting squirrel obscenities in my ear, sudden pain in my shoe, a squirrel is climbing onto my laces, chewing through them so i will trip. With one final lunge, I jump into the tree, scattering thousand of figs and squirrels, birds are now diving from the air! i reach out, and..my fingers close around a small piece of fruit as i fall. i land hard, awkwardly, on my hip, the squirrel on my shoulder screaming in alarm, pressed against my ear. suddenly, there is..nothing. All scatter, vanish, leaving behind broken branches, juice and fur. even the birds have fallen silent. I sit, leaning against the tree, catching my breath. my husband is still lying on the ground , uninjured, but angry that again, another year will have to pass before he can try again. i slowly open my hand, the fig glistening in the sunlight, bursting with juice, i close my eyes and breathe in the fresh, warm, lemony fragrance and open my eyes again as a sudden sound in my ear reminds me...i am not alone here under the tree. the squirrel, still on my shoulder, is also breathing in the juicy scent, his eyes also closed.. i realize he is very young, that must be why he attempted the ridiculous, almost suicidal leap across the street. suddenly, his eyes snap open, almost hypnotized by the fig in my hand, he was unaware for a moment of his danger. a sudden, smothered squeak of alarm escaped his mouth, along with a tiny bit of drool. we looked at each other. he was small and very grey, with pale shading into his tail. his eyes flickered inquisitively over my face. then, he suddenly sighed...it was the sigh... such an expression of longing, and disappointment and hope in it! I motioned my husband over, and carefully, he stiffly, crawled to where we were sitting. the squirrel looked alarmed, then at me, as though for protection. i felt a stab of motherly feeling, as though this tiny creature were a long lost child. then as we sat together, sheltered under the fig tree that had undoubtedly seen stranger sights in it's hundred years of life, I carefully divided the fig into three pieces, and we contentedly ate together in the morning sun.... so we got this net, and it works great.