Dear Woodland Creatures

I Love You, But Piss Off

When we bought our woodsy home 10 years ago, the previous owners said, “Have fun with the raccoons.” The critters do not bother us much, but we had our days.

First, we were not surprised to find the trash pandas enjoyed climbing into our garbage can. My husband, Dee, would sleep through the noise, but I could hear them clambering into the receptacle at night. I would not care if they ate the grossest of food scraps, but finding trash remnants across our driveway or in the yard was not cool. When I put a single brick atop the can, I would still hear a mild thump-thump as they tried to lift the lid. No problem – a bigger paver was all that was required. But they found other ways to annoy us.

The best room in our home – our real living space – is our sunroom. The room holds our “old people” recliners, our most comfy sofa, our TV, and toys and books for the grandkids. Its best features are the walls of windows and patio doors that surround it.

Before we made a fix, the room’s greatest drawback was the empty space below, which was weakly insulated and easily accessible to the ‘coons. We could hear them digging under our feet and occasionally growling or screeching. I once overheard what I thought to be a violent raccoon molestation, though it may only have been a mama protecting her litter from a predator.

We are not gun owners; we never tried to trap the raccoons; and we never considered hiring someone for removal. What did the trick was eliminating their access. The wood surround that was already in place worked OK, but the gaps at the ground were their “aha” points where they dug like naughty puppies until they could squeeze underneath. We had acquired a bunch of landscape pavers from our previous investment property and decided to stack them all the way around the exterior. They were heavy enough that the little creeps could not budge them but light enough for people to move, which was great when we had spray-foam insulation added under the room. We still see raccoons in our wooded neighborhood occasionally, but I have not found them to be unwanted tenants in seven years or more.

Once, and only once, because we learned from our mistake, we had to wrestle a raccoon to salvage our food delivery. It seemed the aroma of our fish-and-chicken dinners was so enticing that the crook made its way to our porch before we did.

Now we just wrestle with squirrels that enjoy feasting on birdseed. When we bought the home, we acquired an interestingly rigged bird feeder, which sat just outside one of the sunroom windows. The wood base on which it sat was covered with long screws and nails protruding up from the bottom. A large metal drum sat beneath to deter climbers, and the downspouts at the two outside corners of the room held metal contraptions that served the same purpose. When we replaced one of the downspouts, we realized how necessary the contraption was.

Squirrels once again found an easy path to the feeder, so we added some more pokey screws – which proved pointless since the woodland creatures just dance their way around them – and we invested in a nice, tall, feeder designed to deter squirrels. It did not work. The intent was that the weight of the squirrel would pull down the outer cage and essentially close the feeder openings. The furry critters learned how to press ever so lightly to still get their little mouths into the openings to enjoy wild birdseed feasts.

In the spring, our fancy feeder appeared to be owned by a fat girly squirrel. At first, I could just clap my hands loudly from where I sat across the room, and she would skitter away. Later, she ignored my claps, so instead, I started to screech loudly, as though I were trying to impersonate an annoying bird. That worked a few times, but then she realized she could ignore my harmless noises altogether.

I guessed that the girly squirrel was pregnant, and when she started showing up again with dark nipples that I had not noticed previously, my suspicion was confirmed. We occasionally saw some babies out and about, but they did not dare trespass on our feeder.

Dee has a pellet gun, but I will not use it. He has never done serious damage with it. He tries to nuke the squirrels, but he is no more of a hunter than I am.

Leaving the feeder empty helped us evade the problem for a few weeks, but then I felt like a dirtbag for not feeding the beautiful birds we see. Cardinals, blue jays, finches, grosbeaks … I love them all. How could I deny them food? And so, once again, I filled the feeder. Then along came another daring squirrel. I knew it was not the same mama I saw before, because she wore a distinctive patch on her fur, perhaps from an injury. Maybe Dee was a better shot than I thought.

In my most recent battle, I jumped out of my recliner, stomping loudly, and ran to the window, which barely phased the thief. Next, I tried swinging a wooden leg that had popped off a small toy chair. I swear he laughed. Still refusing to grab the pellet gun, I used my old standby for dousing scary spiders. After my vicious zaps with a citrus-scented cleaning product, little of which even reached him, the latest culprit has not returned. No doubt I am now the talk of the woodland creatures’ village, as he shares his story of the wild woman wielding spray cleaner, while the truth is likely that his tummy is full, and he is plotting his next feast.