So my office, where I work from home, is upstairs on the
east side of the house. It’s quiet up here, just me and La Luna, during the
day. I have Pandora on low (most of the time), because phone calls. So here I
am sitting at my desk under the front windows when I hear skittering in front
of me. I stand up to see out the window and there’s two beady little rodent
eyes staring at me. STARING ME DOWN. It
seems I interrupted him…her…whatever, I’m not about to get that close, in the
act of….cleaning out my gutters? Well then, that’s not so bad. Except that now
it gets spooked and disappears around the corner. WTH. There’s nowhere to go
but down, buddy. Oh, how wrong am
I. Anyway, assuming he found his way
down to the deck, back to work it is.
 |
| Little Bastard |
Days pass. I’m in my office working. La Luna is passed out in her beanbag. I hear some random noise, could be La Luna snoring or snuffling or whatever that dream noise is that she does. I turn. I look. La Luna is passed out, not dreaming, not snuffling, not snoring. Crap. The noise is coming from OUTSIDE. Like some paranoid madwoman, I walk around listening to the outside walls. Then I notice flakes of wood falling from the sky. Oh. Wait. They’re falling from….the soffit. What. The hell. Is going. On. This is a very old house. Cedar shakes. Wood soffits. Who knew squirrels like to eat wood?? Wait. IT’S EATING MY SOFFITS? Oh, hell no. I start banging on the walls. Really loud. He/she gets spooked finally and leaves. And comes back daily.
 |
| Cleaning out the gutters |
For days, I feel Little Bastard stalking me. Occasionally I look out the window and he/she
is staring at me. I’m being friggin stalked by a rodent. This top floor is
dormered, there is no actual attic. The side windows are directly under the
peak of the roof. If I look upward out the window, I can see his furry tail
hanging off the roof. He has actually hung upside down FROM THE ROOF and STARED
at me like I’M the one intruding. And I
want badly to hurt him. I’m not a vicious person , unless you mess with my
kids, my fiancé, my dog….or my house.
This is slowly going to drive me over the edge (some may say there’s not
far to go…don’t believe them) Picture Agnes Moorehead in the Twilight Zone “Invaders”
episode.
Twilight Zone-Invaders
Uh huh, that’s about where I was headed. With better hair and clothes, but still. Listening to this Little Bastard chewing on my house. That became his official name. Little Bastard. Isn’t that adorable? It became a routine, him chewing and gnawing, me yelling out the window and banging on the walls. Then I heard him/her over my head. Oh no, oh hell no. The fiancé said, no, there’s no way he could get in the attic. I said, oh, there is SOMETHING making noise over my desk. Finally went around that side of the house (it’s the far side of the house, we rarely go over there unless it’s summer or at least spring) and, oh lookit that! There’s a vent. In the very small attic space. A wood vent. With a screen behind it. A screen with a damn tear in it. Little Bastard. Calling the critter ridder place asap.
“Yea, hi, I have a squirrel in my attic.”
“A squirrel? Are you sure it’s in the attic?”
“Oh hell yea, I can hear it even as we speak, over my head. Definitely in the attic. I need him gone. Like, yesterday. Can you do that?”
“Are you sure it’s a squirrel? Could be a raccoon”
*what the hell difference does it make?? It’s a four legged creature who is definitely NOT a member of my family, living in my damn house*
“I’m quite sure. I have seen it. It has been stalking me from my front roof. It’s a squirrel.”
“We’ll send someone out….is tomorrow good?”
“Yesterday would have been better, but I’ll take tomorrow.”
So Melissa came to my house. Melissa from Utah. What she’s doing in NY is beyond me, but hey, she does squirrel removal so I’m good with that. She walked through my entire house to verify there is absolutely no attic access. After I told her there’s about maybe a foot of attic space, and absolutely no attic access. She was kind. She did not comment on the shoes when she checked my under the eaves closet. Or my boots when she checked the office closet. We went outside. We stared for a bit at the ripped screen. She decided that they would bring a “block and tunnel” to put over the vent. It’s a little metal cage tunnel that Little Bastard can get OUT of but he can’t get back in. Excellent. Let’s do it. She writes me up an estimate, explaining the fees. I tell her I really don’t care what it costs, just do it, thank you, my sanity is at risk and South Oaks is not my preferred vacation destination, straitjacket is not my preferred fashion statement.
Apparently the block and tunnel worked. JT (apparently from Idaho) came and took the tunnel down, covered the vent with some heavy duty mesh stuff, smeared some Crisco with red pepper (FYI, he said it’s been known to repel rodents, red pepper flakes or cayenne. I gave him both.) where L.B. likes to chew, we’re good. HOWEVER. Now I have a worse problem. A pissed off L.B. He is now back and chewing on the soffit, chewing on the frame around the vent, wreaking havoc and stress and endangering my sanity again. Still. For what it’s worth, we tried humane traps. One was on the deck. He was SUPPOSED to go in the END to get the PayDay candy. But NO, not our L.B. HE went in through the sides and tripped it without getting snagged. And you wonder why his name is L.B. Psht. TWICE he did this. Once when it was on the roof. We reset it and the wind blew it off the roof. THIS SQUIRREL IS OUT TO GET ME, I SWEAR. Good thing there’s a guarantee on this pest control thing. I called them yesterday. Jessica, I said, I have a problem. JT came and put up a block and tunnel. It worked, but now I have a pissed off squirrel eating my house. I need y’all to do something. Death is an option.” (sorry, PETA, do not judge me until you have a squirrel eating YOUR house.) JT came back. I venture outside to greet him.
Uh huh, that’s about where I was headed. With better hair and clothes, but still. Listening to this Little Bastard chewing on my house. That became his official name. Little Bastard. Isn’t that adorable? It became a routine, him chewing and gnawing, me yelling out the window and banging on the walls. Then I heard him/her over my head. Oh no, oh hell no. The fiancé said, no, there’s no way he could get in the attic. I said, oh, there is SOMETHING making noise over my desk. Finally went around that side of the house (it’s the far side of the house, we rarely go over there unless it’s summer or at least spring) and, oh lookit that! There’s a vent. In the very small attic space. A wood vent. With a screen behind it. A screen with a damn tear in it. Little Bastard. Calling the critter ridder place asap.
“Yea, hi, I have a squirrel in my attic.”
“A squirrel? Are you sure it’s in the attic?”
“Oh hell yea, I can hear it even as we speak, over my head. Definitely in the attic. I need him gone. Like, yesterday. Can you do that?”
“Are you sure it’s a squirrel? Could be a raccoon”
*what the hell difference does it make?? It’s a four legged creature who is definitely NOT a member of my family, living in my damn house*
“I’m quite sure. I have seen it. It has been stalking me from my front roof. It’s a squirrel.”
“We’ll send someone out….is tomorrow good?”
“Yesterday would have been better, but I’ll take tomorrow.”
So Melissa came to my house. Melissa from Utah. What she’s doing in NY is beyond me, but hey, she does squirrel removal so I’m good with that. She walked through my entire house to verify there is absolutely no attic access. After I told her there’s about maybe a foot of attic space, and absolutely no attic access. She was kind. She did not comment on the shoes when she checked my under the eaves closet. Or my boots when she checked the office closet. We went outside. We stared for a bit at the ripped screen. She decided that they would bring a “block and tunnel” to put over the vent. It’s a little metal cage tunnel that Little Bastard can get OUT of but he can’t get back in. Excellent. Let’s do it. She writes me up an estimate, explaining the fees. I tell her I really don’t care what it costs, just do it, thank you, my sanity is at risk and South Oaks is not my preferred vacation destination, straitjacket is not my preferred fashion statement.
Apparently the block and tunnel worked. JT (apparently from Idaho) came and took the tunnel down, covered the vent with some heavy duty mesh stuff, smeared some Crisco with red pepper (FYI, he said it’s been known to repel rodents, red pepper flakes or cayenne. I gave him both.) where L.B. likes to chew, we’re good. HOWEVER. Now I have a worse problem. A pissed off L.B. He is now back and chewing on the soffit, chewing on the frame around the vent, wreaking havoc and stress and endangering my sanity again. Still. For what it’s worth, we tried humane traps. One was on the deck. He was SUPPOSED to go in the END to get the PayDay candy. But NO, not our L.B. HE went in through the sides and tripped it without getting snagged. And you wonder why his name is L.B. Psht. TWICE he did this. Once when it was on the roof. We reset it and the wind blew it off the roof. THIS SQUIRREL IS OUT TO GET ME, I SWEAR. Good thing there’s a guarantee on this pest control thing. I called them yesterday. Jessica, I said, I have a problem. JT came and put up a block and tunnel. It worked, but now I have a pissed off squirrel eating my house. I need y’all to do something. Death is an option.” (sorry, PETA, do not judge me until you have a squirrel eating YOUR house.) JT came back. I venture outside to greet him.
“Welcome back. What are we doing this time,” I say, glancing at the weird metal
tube that he’s just filled with dead leaves from my driveway.
“I’ll put this trap up, and it should get him. It’s a ‘kill only’ trap.”
“Oh good! Perfect! OK, well then I’ll be in my office if you need me."
There follows some drilling, hammering, and good lord what the hell is he doing out there.
I see him put his stuff in his car and head back to the house, go outside again to greet him.
“OK, the trap is up, c’mon, I’ll show you.”
So….there’s this big ol’ metal pipe-tube thing hanging right under the vent. “When he goes for the vent, he’ll smell the bait and go in there to investigate, and that should trip the trap.”
“Ooooooh-kay. And then I call you and you come take him away, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“Awesome…..great…soooo….what happens if he goes in there when I’m downstairs and I don’t hear it…or we’re not home…or whatever, how will we know if we got him?”
*brief pause, sly grin* “oh….you’ll see his tail.”
“……………………………………………………Alrighty then.”
It’s snowing today. Hard. L.B. doesn’t venture on the roof when there’s snow. We’ll see how this goes. Hopefully once the snow stops I will see a tail hanging out of this thing. I will either call JT to come take it away, or perhaps just for good measure I’ll make squirrel stew. Don’t mock. It’s a thing:
Squirrel Stew
More likely, L.B. will ignore the lure of the bait in the trap, and use the trap itself to sit on as he chews his way into my house. My hate for this rodent is unparalleled. And totally justified.
“I’ll put this trap up, and it should get him. It’s a ‘kill only’ trap.”
“Oh good! Perfect! OK, well then I’ll be in my office if you need me."
There follows some drilling, hammering, and good lord what the hell is he doing out there.
I see him put his stuff in his car and head back to the house, go outside again to greet him.
“OK, the trap is up, c’mon, I’ll show you.”
So….there’s this big ol’ metal pipe-tube thing hanging right under the vent. “When he goes for the vent, he’ll smell the bait and go in there to investigate, and that should trip the trap.”
“Ooooooh-kay. And then I call you and you come take him away, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“Awesome…..great…soooo….what happens if he goes in there when I’m downstairs and I don’t hear it…or we’re not home…or whatever, how will we know if we got him?”
*brief pause, sly grin* “oh….you’ll see his tail.”
“……………………………………………………Alrighty then.”
It’s snowing today. Hard. L.B. doesn’t venture on the roof when there’s snow. We’ll see how this goes. Hopefully once the snow stops I will see a tail hanging out of this thing. I will either call JT to come take it away, or perhaps just for good measure I’ll make squirrel stew. Don’t mock. It’s a thing:
Squirrel Stew
More likely, L.B. will ignore the lure of the bait in the trap, and use the trap itself to sit on as he chews his way into my house. My hate for this rodent is unparalleled. And totally justified.
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