Monday, March 30, 2015
When Nature Comes Inside
A resounding SNAP! marked the end of the squirrel's trials and tribulations. Mine too. Inside, the squirrel inside rattled and roamed in the confined quarters of its cage like the angry wild creature it was.
"That's it," the animal rescue operator said, "I stapled wire over the hole in your roof, and as long as it holds, your squirrel problems should be over. I'll be releasing the squirrel far, far away from here."
I sighed with relief. That darned squirrel had done more damage in the 72 hours it had roamed the walls and rooms of our house than our two toddlers had done since they'd been born. It tore around our finished basement, and ripped up our things.
"Thank you so much," I smiled gratefully keeping my distance. While amiable, he also smelled like the animal control rescue operator he was. The odor of skunk clung to his clothes, and I privately wondered how anyone could tolerate standing next to him. I am sure he must have had a good story to tell about his "residual perfume."
The last few days had been quite interesting. Alone, and winter break just starting, we'd been forced to seek shelter in my parent's house. A blizzard had knocked out the power, and it had gotten steadily colder, until none of us could stand the frigid temperatures. So I packed up my children and drove the 30 miles to my parents house. We enjoyed their hospitality staying toasty warm until news came that power had been restored.
Upon our return, I sensed something was off the instant I opened the front door. It wasn't any thing I could see or put my finger on. Motioning my kids to stay outside, I entered cautiously. Nothing seemed wrong. That is, not until I opened the door to the basement. Peering into the murky darkness I jumped, startled, when I saw something streaking around the basement.
My son snuck a peek. "Skurrl! Mom!" And it was.
The poor thing had found its way inside through a small opening in the roof line, eaten through our new ceiling, and found itself dumped into the basement. It tore around like a crazed thing. Bits of Kleenex littered the room, and a lamp had tipped over. Attracted to the window, it clawed away at the wood, creating enough chip debris to carpet a playground.
Calling animal pest control for help, I was told to try and confine it as much as possible. It kept clawing at the window because it was trying to get outside, and didn't quite understand why it couldn't! Managing to trap it in the laundry room, it was up to animal control to cage and remove it.
Surveying the mayhem in the basement while waiting for their arrival, I lost all sympathy for the squirrel. All I could think of was how much work it would take to get the basement back to normal. And I prayed that the squirrel would be taken away.
And it was. Far, far, away.