It Was Man vs Squirrel; Not an Epic Battle, but Enough for Me

There sometimes comes a time when a man must battle nature.

Now nature can be a tough thing of course, but I had to do battle. And my battle at first seemed like a mismatch: An oversized human male against a rather small squirrel. And let me tell you, that little sucker nearly won.

Squirrels love my house, a kind of funky place built in the 70s with weird rooflines, a few stained glass windows, not enough insulation and some dicey siding. I love my house, and squirrels love it, too. They chewed their way into the eves in a couple of places and came in and out of my walls. Now that one little sucker made his way down the wall of one of my chimneys, to which a wood-burning stove was attached. I disconnected the stove in the basement since it wasn’t properly installed, and gave it to a neighbor when I first moved in a few years ago..

But that chimney was apparently was a very attractive passageway for what was to become my nemesis. I heard him (I’ll assume it was a him, but I didn’t check) in the living room closet, through which that formerly used chimney ran from the basement up through the roof. A few days ago, about a week after boarding up the three exterior holes around the house, he broke to daylight and made his move to the kitchen. My guess is that he couldn’t find his way out. (At least I’m going with that theory for now.)

Oh that’s not going to work. Not on any level.

I know it gets cold up here in New Hampshire and mice often make their way into houses when the weather changes. But this was a different thing. That little sucker was sneaky, avoiding my old tennis racquet (a Dunlop Maxply for those keeping notes). My forehand sucks when it comes to whacking squirrels and I was a touch fearful of breaking a window when he jumped on the ledge and motored around the sink and then back into the closet.

On to the Amazon account . . . and two days later the two Havahart traps were delivered to my door.

With visions of my albeit small Moby Dick, and my going mad trying to catch it, I set the traps just outside the closet door, baited with my favorite extra-crunchy peanut butter. A perfect strategy, I thought.

But that first night, nothing.

The next night he made a move out of the closet, past the traps and down the hall to my bedroom. Are you kidding me? I stirred around 6, flipped on the light and there he was, happily relaxing on one of the thick beams near a window. I kind of freaked a bit, not a pretty sight for any overweight older guy in his shorts, grabbed a towel and tried to grab him. He escaped, sprinting down the hall and back under the closet door.

I am a patient person, but the thought of him visiting me in my bedroom in the middle of the night wasn’t on top of my want list, so I planned to camp in the living room . . . fewer beams and timber framing there, so he couldn’t get a height advantage and scare the crap out of me. (There’s something disconcerting about a critter, even a small one, wandering around above me while I sleep.)

Relaxing in the recliner and watching ESPN, I heard him in the closet, but resisted the urge to chase him. Traps set, I waited . . .

Suddenly I heard a trap door fall and lock. Perfect. He’d tried to get his peanut butter fix from the trap just outside the door and got busted. I threw a towel over the trap and moved him to the office and closed the door . . . at first light, I relocated him a ways down the road to a beautiful spot overlooking the river.

I know it’s cold out, but he can visit someone else’s house until summer. It could have been worse for him, that old Maxply is still around.