Monday, 4 February 2008

Squirrel Saga – Part Four

So for the first couple of days again nothing happened even though I’m continually checking the trap and the environs. Then, at long last, I began to notice a furry head poking around the corner of the block wall once again. Gingerly making his way along the stucco Mr. Sticky Toes slowly manoeuvred closer to the aroma cloud hovering above the trap, but held back either through judicious, intelligent, decision making or just sensing my presence peeking out from behind the drapes. However, the next morning the opportunity to almost have breakfast in bed, so as to speak, proved too much of an enticement and my attic dwelling pest went for the bait with the door clacking down behind him in a flash. And this time, there was no simple escape. The door held, the bars did not bend, the structure remained intact. Success! Quickly, I’m on the phone to notify the manager of the capture, so they can pick him up and take him on his merry way. Alas, there was no answer, so I trundled down to the manager’s suite to inform them in person and there appeared to be nobody home, as there was no response to the little knocker mechanism on the door. You wouldn’t think a critter that small could maintain such a racket for long, but three hours later the shrill squeaks and hissing were still emanating from the cage. And the incensed inmate managed to move the cage all around the deck with the boisterous and angered movements. Since I tend to sit close to the sliding doors, this racket got to be extremely annoying in short order and my pleas to be quiet fell on deaf ears. Finally tiring of the noise, I carefully pushed an unbent coat hanger through the bars to pick up the trap (the small carrying handle on the trap seemed easily reachable by the nasty claws) for immediate transport elsewhere. Deciding it was not my job to relocate the ticked off squirrel, I opted to place him in one of the stairwells where he would be out of the way for the time being. Because there is an elevator in the building the stairs are rarely used and I thought my captured villain would not pose a problem. Of course, later a couple of people related to me that they had decided to walk up the stairs, but were deterred by the shrieking they heard coming from the third floor. The following morning, the manager informed me of their discovery of the imprisoned squirrel and the subsequent release of said prisoner at the nearby golf course.
Now it was my chance to sit back and enjoy the quiet. After two weeks with nary a sound spoiling my bliss from above, I logically assumed all the problems had been transported away never to return. Not only had the pesky little beast not been able to stumble on the reverse route back to his attic dwelling, but no other homeless squirrel had managed to locate the vacant digs. So in my elation I put all the follow up procedures on hold – like finding the entrance and sealing it off for ever – and ignored the proper path, trusting nothing would again spoil the peace and quiet. Until a day about three months later when I thought I heard a scratching up in the rafters!

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