As most of you know, we moved this year.
The biggest difference between the old house and the new house is that we now have a bigger backyard surrounded by mature trees and bushes, a beautifully landscaped (by someone else) garden, and a screened-in back porch where we can enjoy the wonders of nature.
For the first time in forever, my wife and I can sit outside in the morning (sometimes) enjoying coffee/tea in the fresh air, toil together in the garden (even more sometimes), and sit in the back having a robust, outdoor meal without an onslaught of flies, bees, and mosquitoes.
Out little oasis...or so I thought.
The problem is that with all these back-to-nature highlights come back-to-nature animals. Which isn't so much a problem in itself, except that it turns out that I married Elmer Fudd. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
Foxes
A forgettable Jodie Foster movie from 1980, and a mid-spring appetizer for our summer of critters.
One morning shortly after we moved in, my wife texted me some photos of a gorgeous fox family that had made our home their home. They had a den in the back shrubbery, birthed a youngster, taught it to hunt and eventually moved on.
My wife took it all in stride, had an animal removal company over to analyze the situation, found out they were mostly harmless (and would move on) and then basically accepted them as co-inhabitants.
They were beautiful, kept a respectful distance, and except for the small risk of them eating our ex-Neighbours' dog who occasionally visited, were mostly harmless.
Wow. Nature is so cool.
Mice
The old owners had a few traps near where they kept the garbage, so we basically suspected there must be some mice about. Every now and then, one of the foxes would show up with a little mouse snack-pack in its jaws, so they were definitely earning their keep.
And after the foxes moved on, we didn't really see any...except one, living a meagre existence inside the walls of an outdoor shed (more about that shed later). And he only showed his face when the flood waters occasionally arose in the area of the shed.
But the wife wanted him gone, and so I bought a few traps (the kind that hide all the killing stuff inside), loaded them with cheese, and they've been sitting there un-sprung ever since. No sign of little Mickey, and no problem for David so far.
But then came the...
Squirrels and Chipmunks
Who can hate squirrels and chipmunks? Right? They're so cute and fluffy. They sing wonderful little ditties in high-pitched voices. They scurry and scrounge and dart this way and that. They have big round eyes and tiny little faces.
Well, they also like climbing our screens. And (according to Elmer) they want to climb the screens so they can nest inside our outside ceiling and chew on wires, take infectious little craps, make infectious little babies crawling with germs, and do all manner of ill deeds.
One day, I came home and all the screens were up (meaning no bug-free meals). Why? Because the f***ing chipmunks had been discovered ascending the screens and disappearing into the top. The animal removal guy (him again) said they'd destroy our porch 'fer sher' (he actually said it that way) if we didn't do something - and for a start, raising the screens was the something.
The 8-year-old became Elmer's alarm system, screaming an alert whenever one of these cute little critters showed their cute little face. Then Elmer would come charging from wherever she happened to be in the house, broom in hand, waving it madly at the by-then absent critter.
She spoke of buying one of those tiny spy cams and mounting it at the top of the screen to see what they were up to in the ceiling. We bought a plastic owl to scare them off (which didn't work and probably made us the laughing stock of the critter kingdom). And we spent weeks alternating between screens-up and screens-down.
For all you animal advocates out there, you'll be happy to know that Elmer never got herself a little shotgun, though I'm pretty sure I missed the chance for the best anniversary gift ever if I had bought her something of that ilk.
They're still doing it. Our screens still go up whenever we see one. And even as recently as yesterday, the middle child gloriously and mockingly ran after a cute little squirrel with a deeply disturbing bellow and lots of hand-waving (by the middle child, not the squirrel) and we all laughed about it. Except Elmer, who appreciated the support.
Raccoons
Ever heard of a raccoon latrine? Look it up...it's a thing. And we have one.
Remember my post about a late-night encounter with a threesome of raccoons on the roof of our little outdoor shed? And they guff they gave me when I asked them to go? Turns out they weren't just there hanging out one night. No, no, no. They were there pooping to their little hearts' delight.
At the time of this writing, I am quite intimately familiar with their poops. I could describe them to you in great detail, but I won't. I will just tell you that we tried several things to deter them (including the owl) and nothing worked (For example, the owl ended up on the ground, with the threat "DONT F WIT ROCKY" carved in its face by tiny claws).
We bought these spiky plastic strips (that appeared on Dragon's Den) and I crawled onto the roof and screwed them down in a zig-zaggy pattern thinking "who would want to poop while standing on a spiky plastic strip?" We got a single little "F You" poop between strips on the first night, then a symphony of poops on the next few nights -- a veritable chorus of disdain -- each poop carefully placed in the two-inch gaps between zig-saggy spiky plastic strips.
So just this weekend, I put up chicken wire, moved the spiky plastic strips to the top of the adjoining fence, and so far - one night now - no poops.
Too soon to declare victory? I THINK NOT.
Dead Bird
One showed up a few mornings ago, out on the deck in peaceful respite, lying on its side. We tried to pay the 8-year-old to don rubber gloves, pick it up and dispose of it. She accepted the assignment, then got cold feet just before executing the plan. So Daddy had to step up and save the day. I did, with astonishing calm and remarkable courage.
Then, I went inside to eat some Swiss Chalet.
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So far, Elmer has basically done no harm to nature but has given a few animals a good laugh. She hates raccoons and squirrels and chipmunks with a passion that I find strangely alluring.
Me, on the other hand...I put down two mousetraps and picked up one dead bird. By my reckonin' (as the animal removal guy would say) that makes me the true hero of the summer.
But Elmer -- you keep hunting. Your time will come.
