This squirrel dispersal is gaining in momentum so rapidly that I haven't had a chance to address any of the other emails to the tipline, and there are quite a few for a change. In response to reader Kirra B.'s feeling that the Dutchess County Fair coverage would have benefitted from some discussion of the Jeanne Crain musical State Fair: my feeling is that it wouldn't be right to compare a county fair to the Iowa State Fair, it is the heavyweight fair champion and would have brutalized the poor little Dutchess unnecessarily. To make up for the slight, though, here are the lyrics to It Might As Well be Spring:

The things I used to like
I don't like anymore.
I want a lot of other things
I've never had before.
It's just like mother says...
I sit around and mope.
Pretending I am wonderful.
And knowing I'm a dope.
I'm as restless as a willow in a windstorm,
I'm as jumpy as a puppet on a string.
I'd say that I had spring fever,
But I know it isn't spring.
I'm starry-eyed and vaguely discontented
Like a nightingale without a song to sing.
Oh, why should I have spring fever
When it isn't even spring?
I'm as busy as a spider spinning daydreams,
I'm as giddy as a baby on a swing.
I haven't seen a crocus or a rosebud
Or a robin on the wing.
But I feel so gay,In a melancholy way,
That it might as well be spring,
It might as well be spring.