OUR UNWANTED VISITORS

One night in the recent past, I was sitting in the lower level reading my Bassmaster magazine, when over my head I heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet racing to and fro across the ceiling. Mice between the floors were my preferred choice of critters. I went to the garage to get traps, baited them with peanut butter, and put them in the open rear area of the ceiling from the unfinished part of the lower level. Next morning the traps were not sprung. I bought new traps of a different design. No luck. The usual late night chase across the ceiling continued.

When I went to the toilet paper storage area under the Jacuzzi in the master bathroom to get a new roll, I found all the opened rolls shredded with three half rolls left. Not even lint remained. The mice had discovered all the nesting materials they needed for a king size bed. I had a picture in my mind of them smiling, winking, and pinching each other as they passed with great anticipation of a perfect bedroom.

The real excitement started with a scream of sheer terror from my honey. I was sitting at the computer trying to get on line when the frantic call came from above along with, “You’ve got mail.” In my 50 plus years married, husbandly voice I yelled, “What’s wrong?” To which my bride screamed, “Get this animal out of the bedroom!”
When I entered the bedroom my honey was sitting in the middle of the king size bed with legs folded close to her body, pointing to the cutest little animal calmly sitting between us. I wondered which way it might run? If it headed for the bed all three of us would be in big trouble. Thankfully he/she dashed into the bathroom. I closed the door.

My bride said a lot of things at that time but I only remember a few. “Where did it come from? What kind of animal is it? How did it get into the house? What are you going to do to get it out? Is there more than one?” All the questions I could answer with a simple, “I don’t know.”

I had a choice to make about retrieval of our uninvited guest: the shotgun or a large minnow net. A 12 gage might do equal damage to shoes, clothing, and the closet along with the critter, so I resorted to the net. The critter was the color of a dark gray 1992 or 1993 Mercedes “S” series sedan, it had a round head and big black eyes placed in front of its face, not like the eyes of a rat or squirrel. He was a size larger than a chipmunk but had a similar size tail and design. One thing for sure, it was a night animal with those big eyes.

I went into the bathroom armed with the net from the boathouse, only to find him behind a trunk in a corner of the closet off the bathroom. It was reluctant to leave but once he/she raced out into the open bathroom, it was a simple matter to capture it in the net. I should have dispatched him into the critter afterlife instead of freeing him off the deck, but it was so cute my honey wouldn’t allow it. There was one more to go.

I went back to the computer to find I had been disconnected. Took an hour to get back on line. Once connected and “You’ve got mail,” I heard the pitter-patter of one little critter’s feet overhead heading for the open area in the unfinished storage area under the Jacuzzi. I thought he might be taking the TP back. Opening the door and quickly turning on the light produced another cute slightly larger, lighter gray little critter with a orange-yellow stripe above a dark Mercedes gray stripe on its lower side. We looked at each other for some time. Finally I said, “Wait here a minute while I get my BB gun.” I got the gun and went back, but he didn’t wait. Back to the garage to get rat traps loaded and primed to replace the mousetraps. The computer had disconnected, so I went to bed.

To answer the question “How did it get into the house?” took some investigation. Next morning I found a vent flapper missing from a four-inch vent under the deck. Capps’ Hardware had a vent cover in a plastic matching in color the area around the vent-my first mistake. I was finished with the project after much trouble removing the aluminum pipe from the cap and cutting a notch so it would fit. Figure he could get out but not back-my second mistake.

About 11:00 PM I hard that pitter-patter again heading to the back open area. Light on and an upward look found him looking down smiling at me from a hook holding the sleds and Honey’s 60-year-old ice skates. He was eating the leather laces. I clapped my hands and he dashed out of the house with vent flapping. I went out and taped the vent flapper shut with duct tape. Next morning the tape was chewed away. I taped the door shut with him inside. I had to know where he was. If he was inside, I figured I’d hear him scratching on the vent to get out and I’d go take the tape off and wait outside for him to leave and tape the flap tight with metal furnace tape. Third mistake.

The next night, my bride thought we should catch him in the net as he came out. My picture of that wasn’t the same as hers. Looked like an old Boy Scout snipe hunt setup to me.

It was about 9:30 the next night, he was scratching to get out. I called my new hunting partner and had her hold the net while I pulled the tape. About 30 minutes later, we saw paws and a nose pushing out the flapper. I told my Honey to get ready with the net. No movement from either him or us for a long time. He came out half his body length and a l o n g time later he eased out except for one foot still inside. Honey lunged at him, and before she got to her second step he went back inside. She turned, handed me the net, and went to bed. My honey has never been and is not now a hunter. A gatherer yes, but hunter no. She just hasn’t the patience. I got that “Him or Me at any price” attitude. No little critter is going to live in my house without paying rent. I saw no way he could support himself sleeping all day and going out at night.

I pulled up a chair at the end of the patio and sat for the long wait. Once he cleared the area I got the metal duct tape and really taped all traces of a flapper out of view. Then put duct tape over that. My fourth mistake.

Next morning while checking the traps I noticed our freeloader had shredded the black insulation on the air-condition coolant pipe that ran across the ceiling. He chewed through the $75 dollar neoprene pool (lake) float mat in many places. He had chewed through all the tape and the plastic flapper too. He was once more our unwanted resident rodent. Back to Capps’ this time to get an aluminum vent hood and flap. Allan, a clerk in Capps got what I needed. He told me I was hunting a male ground squirrel. They have stripes. He also told me to bait the traps with cotton. Rodents are always looking for nesting materials.

I glued a ½ inch square hardware cloth to the back of the aluminum hood since he knew how to lift flappers. Now back on with the old plastic with repaired flapper. I had to wait for his scratching to get out one last time. This hopeful last wait for him to leave was the most interesting. I went out on the dock, pulled a chair up about two feet from a piling and got comfortable. Within minutes a big spider started to build a web from my chair to the piling. It only took 20 minutes for the web builder to complete a beautiful web and get into his wait mode with me. At least I had company and it was entertaining. It took two hours for the final eviction notice to be served. Once the rodent had cleared the premises, I quickly removed the plastic vent hood and replaced it with the aluminum screened vent hood. It was 2:23 AM when I turned the alarm clock switch too off and went to bed.

My bride is an early riser, like 4:30 to 5:00 AM most mornings. She came charging into the bedroom at first light saying, “Quick, get up and get the net. The ground squirrel is scratching on the vent. You can catch him.” I asked her which side was he on? She said, “Outside.” I said, “GOOD, that’s where I want him. You catch him in the net if you want too.” I don’t do anything quick any longer. I rolled over and slept very well until 9AM.

First thing I did right. Not bad: one out of five, for three days and nights work.

Note to the wise: Bait mouse and rat traps with one half of a cotton ball, or a peace of cotton from a pill bottle. (Now you know what to do with all that cotton.) It works like a charm. I wire one to the trigger to keep it in place. It can be used over and over even with blood on it from a previous execution.

Bruce, one of my friends and fellow member of Lake Writers, is an artist, poet, sculptor, carver of wooden Indian masks and comical fish wall hangings, chef, recipe book author, book illustrator, Actor, director, house builder, stonemason, Gardner, and that’s just this month, told me they were flying squirrels. Ground squirrels are prairie dogs. All I know is that it would take several per person to make a meal.