Ah, the long awaited Vernal Equinox. The first day of Spring. The hours of daylight matches that of the night's. The weather warms, the flowers are in bloom. Good stuff for the romantics amongst us.
Ah, but for the practicals amongst us, the long awaited Vermin Equinoxious. The beginning of the active season of pest and pestilence.
The fire ants are building their mounds, by the literal thousands. I usually reserve Earth Day for a good poisoning of these hell-dwellers.
Arriving en mass in early April with a thud are the hordes of June bugs, first heard as they dash their minuscule brains against brick wall and window pane with indiscriminate, furiously loud thumps. They are the stupidest of the Lord's handiwork, with bulbous bodies flying head-long into all things solid, only to fall stunned onto their backs where they kick their six tiny legs in futility until they expire in heaps of crunchy carcasses by morning light. How do they even reproduce at this rate?
Then, while eating her yogurt at the dining room table on an early Spring morning, Sue can hear up above, the sound of pestilence:
Nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk.
This is no joke.
Nuk-nuk?
Who's there?
Rodent.
Rodent who?
I'll put a big ro-DENT in your attic woodwork and wiring. That's who!
Squirrels! Big squirrels - the other rat.
I'd rather have poltergeists than these guys.
How and where are they getting into our attic? I inspect the exterior and find that there is a gap between the wood exterior paneling and the brick facade on the north end of the house on the second floor level. The gap was once filled with mortar, but that has either fallen or been picked away allowing ambitious furry woodland creatures to slip in between the brick and the wood and begin to chew on the rafters and wires above the dining room.
So, you know all of that scrap lumber and stuff I have been keeping on the side of the garage walls since 1997? Well, I have been saving it for this day of pestilence. From a long ago bathroom repair project, I pull out a 5-foot piece of cement board. With my reciprocating saw, I slice off two strips of 5' X 1.5" cement board and carry them up to the tippy top of my ladder, extended to the max and balanced on the pentultimate rung, I slip the strips into the squirrel gap.
With a few satisfactory whacks, I nail them in place.
Man, that feels good.
Master of my Castle.
Nuk-nuk?
Who's there?
Nobody - At least that is my hope.
It had to be done, but we really were hoping that we did not end up with trapped, dead, stinking squirrel meat above the dining room.
So far, no noise, no nose.
I still want a breeding pair of Squirrel Snakes for Father's Day [see "It's on My List Again This Year; Archive Blog 12/18/2010].
Ah, but for the practicals amongst us, the long awaited Vermin Equinoxious. The beginning of the active season of pest and pestilence.
The fire ants are building their mounds, by the literal thousands. I usually reserve Earth Day for a good poisoning of these hell-dwellers.
Arriving en mass in early April with a thud are the hordes of June bugs, first heard as they dash their minuscule brains against brick wall and window pane with indiscriminate, furiously loud thumps. They are the stupidest of the Lord's handiwork, with bulbous bodies flying head-long into all things solid, only to fall stunned onto their backs where they kick their six tiny legs in futility until they expire in heaps of crunchy carcasses by morning light. How do they even reproduce at this rate?
Then, while eating her yogurt at the dining room table on an early Spring morning, Sue can hear up above, the sound of pestilence:
Nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk-nuk.
This is no joke.
Nuk-nuk?
Who's there?
Rodent.
Rodent who?
I'll put a big ro-DENT in your attic woodwork and wiring. That's who!
Squirrels! Big squirrels - the other rat.
I'd rather have poltergeists than these guys.
So, you know all of that scrap lumber and stuff I have been keeping on the side of the garage walls since 1997? Well, I have been saving it for this day of pestilence. From a long ago bathroom repair project, I pull out a 5-foot piece of cement board. With my reciprocating saw, I slice off two strips of 5' X 1.5" cement board and carry them up to the tippy top of my ladder, extended to the max and balanced on the pentultimate rung, I slip the strips into the squirrel gap.
With a few satisfactory whacks, I nail them in place.
Man, that feels good.
Master of my Castle.
Nuk-nuk?
Who's there?
Nobody - At least that is my hope.
It had to be done, but we really were hoping that we did not end up with trapped, dead, stinking squirrel meat above the dining room.
So far, no noise, no nose.
I still want a breeding pair of Squirrel Snakes for Father's Day [see "It's on My List Again This Year; Archive Blog 12/18/2010].
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