wherein a squirrel moves into our roof
Only 70 photo’s in 3 months? Fine for my Mum and Dad when I
was a kid, but there is no excuse for that kind of frugality nowadays. I’m
telling you, these kids of mine are pretty damn adorable. They need to be
captured on film so that I can distribute images near and far and the world may
adore them as well. Things must be pretty busy to interrupt my mission of
documentation.
And we are busy. And I see the kids less and don’t take as
many photo’s. But I think that life has found it’s rhythm. I don’t know if it
always makes me happy, but it is a rhythm nonetheless. What I don’t like, is
how life can whip by without me being aware of its passing. As in, summer has
now burst into our lives in the space of a couple of days and it’s filling my
soul with joy, but I have no idea where Spring went. The weeks really do blur,
punctuated by incidents that mark one moment from the next.
Thankfully we can rely on Mountain Dad for episodes of light
entertainment and blog fodder. This most recent involved the culmination of a
long battle with our resident squirrel. Reminiscent of our time in Berry, (Australia)
where Mountain Dad (then just a Mountain Man) waged a war on the local possum.
Possum insisted on scaling our verandah each night, to eat all the vegetables
we had growing in boxes. I awoke one night to the sound of scuffling and
grunts. Mountain Man was heroically defending our vege’s! When he returned to
bed, he told me that the possum was so cocky and confident that he wasn’t scared
off by naked men lunging and yelling at him. Mountain Dad had actually walked
right up to Possum and pulled his tail and only then did the animal deign to
leave his pantry.
Alas, such strategies were to no avail. Possum eventually decimated
our fledgling garden.
Rodents – 1. Mountain Dad – nil.
This time, Mountain Dad would be victorious.
It has been slowly dawning us that there is a squirrel in
the roof. We hear scrabbling noises in the eaves and see him lurking around the
carport. Mountain Dad’s muttering became uneasy as he viewed the potential and
I think he was in denial for a long time.
“It’d be bad,” he sighed,
“In the roof. In the walls. He’d be in the insulation.”
Shea went on to explain that with the house renovations
we’re doing this summer, we run the risk of building the squirrel into the roof
and giving him no options of exit. As the old and holey boards are replaced
with thicker, newer, straighter pieces, the squirrel would get trapped inside.
He sucked his teeth and solemnly concluded, “Hmmm-hmmm, we
don’t want a squirrel in the roof.”
So it was no surprise to actually see the squirrel disappear
into the soffit one day.
“Daaaaaad!” Little Ladie shrieked when he returned from
work. “The squiwel is in the roof!”
Turns out that Mountain Dad had already begun measures of
persuasion to lock the squirrel out. He had the Mountain Kids on high alert,
watching to see when the squirrel left the roof so that he could screw the
sagging boards closed and effectively, lock the rodent’s door. He had already
done this. Case closed, right?
“Daaaaaad!” Little Ladie shrieked when he returned from
work. “The squiwel is BACK in the roof!”
Fancy that, eh? Squirrel had found an alternative crack to
squeeze himself through and Little Ladie was onto him. It was she who alerted
Mountain Dad to the squirrels leaving home one afternoon and in a flurry, he
was up the ladder and screwing a huge piece of wood across a huge area of soffit.
“That’ll keep him out,” he smiled smugly.
And it did. And the squirrel sat on top of the shed roof and
chattered and chastised Shea the whole while. And when we’d gone in for dinner,
we could hear him scrabbling around the outside walls and roof as he sought
another entry.
Then he began eating the house.
We checked on him after dinner and he scampered back to the
shed roof to yell at us while we inspected the damage. We could see a hole in
the siding already. Mountain Dad swore the squirrel was eyeing him up and ready
to leap onto his face. We went in for kids bath-time.
As we were reading her night-time story to her, Little Ladie
asked with concern why the squirrel was still making noises. It was getting to
her and it began getting to me. It was incredible how loud it was, though we
were inside. You could actually hear him chewing on the house. It went on all
night. Through kids-to-bed, dishes, our showers. Right before we went to bed,
Mountain Dad cracked. I think it had something to do with me deciding that our
boy-squirrel was actually a girl and most definitely a mother. There really couldn’t
be any other reason for such determination. She was obviously desperate to
return to her babies who were right now stuck inside the walls without their
mother. They could die, Shea! A mother would do anything for her children, I
know this now. And she’ll do this all night, I’m sure. We won’t be able to
sleep, it’s so loud. A mother would do anything for her children, I know
because I am a mother. Imagine being locked away from your babies?!?!
When it comes down to it, Mountain Dad’s a way bigger softie
than me. At 11pm and under the vocal direction of the irate mama-squirrel, he
was back on the ladder, unscrewing the big block of wood he’d previously
installed. The soffit sagged again and gaped open a welcome door to our happy
housemate.
We heard her scurrying around in there and then quiet for
the rest of the night.
Rodents – 2. Mountain Dad – well, I think he’d admit that a
happy wife does equal a happy life.
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