Early to bed, early to rise, that’s how I operate best. If I lose any sleep, even a couple hours, I can feel it. I spend the day yawning, out of sorts, and though I might get everything done I’d planned on, my typical energy levels lag behind having a hard time catching up.
And I’ve lost sleep the last few nights.
Because of this:
Yeah. Him. Or her. Well, not exactly him/her, but one in my yard. I mean look at that. That casual position of ownership. The smirky look as if to say, “What? You think you own that house? The one right there which I’m sure was built as part of my pathway to the other side where I can launch myself into a tree, going branch to branch thereby escaping all your silly shots at me with the water hose? Pfft. What were you thinking?”
I don’t mind squirrels. I swear. I’ve fed them all through the spring and summer. I’ve let them gobble up the seed I’d bought for the birds, without one bit of resentment. The only time I get irked with the little suckers is when they TEAR SH** UP. Or INVADE my home. (am I yelling? Sorry)
The other night I go upstairs to shower and, by George, what’s that noise? I pause, hold my breath, cock my head and listen. Scritch, scritch, crunch, crunch, scratch, scratch. I could actually feel myself go hot. Squirrels in the attic is one thing – how about squirrels IN THE WALLS? (there I go again)
When I report this latest finding to my husband, he says “I counted five dining on your birdseed the other day.”
He continues, “The pecan trees attract them, and you feeding them doesn’t help.”
I’ve lost sleep. I’m feeling like a cranky two year old.
I say, “I’m not feeding them.”
He replies, “Okay, but, they need thinning out.”
Thinning out? You mean kill them? Isn’t that against the law?
He was right.
There we are. Harnett County. Geez, eight a day???
Last night, here we go again. Same noises, louder, waking us up as usual at 3:00 a.m. We get up and do what we’ve been doing. Go across the hall to “The Room The Squirrels Own,” and hammer fists on the walls, the door frame, jump up and down in the middle of the room. Imagine how conducive that is to falling back asleep.
Maybe we could try to trap them. Some neighbors down the road said they’d trapped the ones getting into their tomatoes. Hauled them little ba****ds right on down the road and let them out in the country.
Funny how you can forget. I reminded my husband they were in the house last year. I woke up one night in early Spring to the sound of a pecan rolling across the bedroom floor. We got up, flipped on the light and he/she froze in place – a youngster, but IN THE HOUSE. WE made like the squirrel ourselves and froze. I want you to know, it did that funny head bob thing, checking us out, then it took the time to pick up the pecan before it ran back the way it had come, *poof* down through the hole for plumbing in the bathroom we’re renovating – like a rabbit disappearing down a hole. We blocked the area, the weather turned warm – problem solved.
Now they have come back, and are finding it oh so much fun to be in the walls. All I can think is what if they chew through wiring creating an expensive repair – or worse?
Our electrician said, “You don’t want to come home one day and find your house burnt up.”
Gee. Thanks for that visual. But, no we don’t, and he’s right.
So, I don’t know what we’re going to do, and none of the answers seem simple. Trapping means pulling furniture out of the way in the upstairs hall, pulling down the ladder from the attic, climbing up, setting a trap, closing it all back up, and then re-doing all of that to check it every day. My husband’s solution makes me feel like I’ve set them up for slaughter.
Meanwhile, I’m t.i.r.e.d. and with the new WIP needing my full attention, and the holidays coming, I really don’t need tired. I’ll be weary enough from all that.
Have you ever had this problem, and if so, what in the world did you do?