Return of the unwanted guest

As I might have mentioned in passing, our squirrel friend is back in the attic. This time around, I know what the skittering noise above my head in the middle of the night is, which helps a bit. It was the gnawing that I heard as I slept Monday morning that concerned me. I kept envisioning one of the support beams in the attic crashing through the ceiling onto my head after being chewed in half. Do squirrels have to sharpen their teeth like beavers? I’m just not certain.

I’ve been asking Matt to brave the wilds of our attic once again – this time well knowing what lies in wait – so we can at least assess the degree of damage.

Last night was the night. (I really must attach a photo of Matt dressed in his battle gear.) Matt suited up in a padded, hooded jacket, looking not unlike a camouflaged version of ‘South Park’s’ Kenny, and prepared a squirrel trap, which we had purchased in the anti-squirrel fever of last year. Honestly, I would’ve gone up there, but I had visions of getting bitten by the squirrel, having to have a rabies shot, and what that might dot to the kiddo in the womb. I’m sure that Matt wouldn’t have accepted that assault to his manhood, anyway. This is man’s work! Raaahhh!

So, up Matt went, bearing his gift/lure of peanut butter, apple slices and granola. I looked on, a bit hungrily, I’ll admit (that’s a darned good little snack!), and stood at the base of the ladder with a towel just in case the little bugger slipped past him and down into the house. Hey, you never know what they’re capable of!

When he got up there and all seemed quiet on the attic front, I climbed the ladder myself and stuck my head up into the space. No squirrel, no noise. I asked Matt if he saw any gnawed-on beams; it seems the chewing had been the shredding of a sheet of cardboard the squirrel had found up there. Matt pointed out a big pile of fluffy insulation against an outer wall. It appeared to have a tunnel leading into it. Hmmm.

He gingerly made his way over to it, gnawed-upon cardboard strip in hand.

“What’s in there?” we asked each other. “Check it out!” I said. “See if there are any babies in it.”

So Matt leaned closer and flipped up a corner of the fluff with his cardboard strip. I thought he was being a bit overly cautious; surely the mama or papa squirrel wasn’t there, or we would have heard it by now!

Right on cue, a full-sized, bushy-tailed grayish squirrel sprang from the pile and dashed at Matt. It whipped around (or over?) him a time or two, then bounced from beam to beam across the attic. I won’t tell you what phrase Matt kept repeating, but suffice it to say, I was glad Lizzy was downstairs and couldn’t hear him.

Reacting quickly (I thought), I hoofed it down the ladder and pulled it down after me. The last thing I wanted – well, besides any harm coming to Matt – was that squirrel having an easy escape route down the ladder and into the rest of the house!

In his moment of excitement, Matt did well not to step between the beams. He managed to make it to the attic entrance, and exclaimed in a tone of shock and horror, “WHERE IS THE LADDER? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“Well, I don’t want the squirrel getting down!” I said.

“Don’t you want ME to get down? PUT THE LADDER BACK UP.”

Oh. Okay.

Matt says that when he told this story at work today, the removal of the ladder was everyone’s favorite part. But I think it was a fairly logical thing to do! I imagine it has something to do with the telling of the story.

So we definitely have a squirrel, and a nest, and probably babies, in the attic. And a trap, as well. We’ll see tomorrow morning, when Matt ventures up there again, if the trap worked (probably not), or if we’ll just have to wait until the squirrels vacate in a couple of months and then wire-mesh the place up like Fort Knox.

And to think I’ve always liked squirrels.