My husband, my hero, the flying squirrel catcher - Part II

By Monica Howell
Posted Friday, March 23, 2007

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Chatham County, NC - Does anyone have an owl I can borrow or possibly a really hungry feral cat?

Five just wasn't my lucky number. There had to be additional varmints for only one evening of mayhem in my household didn't hold true to my previous fate with unwanted critters, and I knew it.

So, we had 5 and apparently that wasn't enough, the next night was unnerving and long to say the least. My husband came home from work and when he walked through the back door I was standing in the middle of the living room with my neck craned in the direction of the ceiling with each hand gripping a different weapon. I turned and looked at my husband and he just laughed. In one hand I had Ellie's minnow net, in the other her broom. Upon completion of his laughter and in reference to her broom he asked, "Now just what are you gonna do with that?" I retorted with, "I'm going to defend myself if this net doesn't work." He put down his bag and took the net from my hand and we followed the critter up the stairs. This particular squirrel was a bit surly and was trying to mock us with his tail wagging movements.

Contemptuous behavior after a long night of sleepless frustration didn't win him a spot in our hearts as warm and fuzzy squirrel of the year. It wasn't long before he was in a cookie tin and transported outside.

A few minutes later I saw two more and they were inches apart from one another but just far enough way from me to be out of reach. Their resting spot was on the ceiling above the couch. I found this desired location of theirs not so peaceful to me as Zoë and Sprocket were literally rearranging the furniture trying to get at them easier. It was quite impossible to watch CSI Miami with the couch that I was sitting on moving every few seconds. Trying to find normalcy in a house with two large dogs hunting flying squirrels is similar to putting panty hose on a rooster. Not possible.

So we put down our weapons and decided to go to bed. Before I went downstairs I gave the dogs a 'do your job' pep talk, two cookies each and let them sniff the minnow net. All night long I heard them pounce and retreat, pounce and retreat, pounce and retreat. I heard a crash at about 2 am and feared the result of the sound would irritate me if I knew what it actually was, so I decided to wait until morning to see for myself.

I'm not sure what time my brain finally went into sleep mode but the next morning I had dark circles under my eyes. My husband found the result of the 'crash sound' first and I knew it was bad when he gasped and said, "Ohhhhh boy, she's gonna be pissed." And I was, it was one of the saucers for my tea cups. The oldest set in my collection. I wanted to scream when I saw it. I have very few possessions that I am attached to, but the ones that have a story and were passed down from family mean the world to me. I did cry but not for long.

Ellie screamed when she spotted the first one. "DADDY, DADDY, GET IT! GET IT DADDY!" "Get what Ellie?" Ellie was standing in the doorway of our bedroom pointing next to Sprocket who was literally smiling with pride and beside him was his competition, resting in peace. I rewarded Sprocket with lots of love and affection and thanked him for doing what mommy had asked of him. He wasn't my only conqueror that morning, Zoë was in the living room lying next to the fireplace and she too had a look of exhausted victory upon her face.

Next to her feet was her competitor, slap worn out and wet with slobber. I was so proud of my dogs and totally smitten with what they had done, the restless night I experienced had now paid off. After giving her lots of love and kisses (not on her mouth) I counted in my head...1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8..

Wow, to me, that is considered infestation. And for some reason, I felt in my bones we weren't through with the squirrel saga just yet, and I was right.

All day long I was thinking to myself, I haven't caught one yet. I wished I still had my golf clubs, my 3 wood in particular. I was once mighty good with a 3 wood in my hands. I had a handicap that made grown men envious; I imagined what I could do to a flying squirrel if that swing of mine has stayed with me all these years.

So the work day was almost near completion and it was time to venture home.

When Ellie and I got there the house was very quiet and for a brief moment I felt, it may be over with. I might not get the pleasure of taking one out. It's not that I want to harm these animals; I just don't want to live with them anymore.

The house remained quiet until my husband came home from work. I was mid sentence in telling him that I haven't heard a peep when I heard a peep. The dogs were up and ready and so were we. Jeff reached for his weapon of choice, a 3 foot long closet rod and I was stuck with Ellie's useless broom.

Not really sure where the minnow net is at this point. I'm grateful our house is made of mostly wood, for I can only imagine the damage Jeff would have caused if it were a glass house. My husband was getting really good at this squirrel capturing thing and I knew it was just a matter of our time and just how long they were willing to hold out on food and water. Jeff talked me out of throwing a baseball at one that night; he didn't have enough faith that I would hit it and feared that I would knock down every breakable item with the balls return of inevitable gravity. When he wasn't watching I did have the satisfying pleasure of whopping one with the heel our daughters cowboy boot.

It pleases me to know that I still have my fast pitch arm from high school. So there were two more gone now and that made for ten total. Double digits, we were definitely winning this match but I was ready for closure and itching to clean my house. There aren't many people who enjoy cleaning up after an unwanted guest.

Due to their presence and total lack of "potty training", these unwelcomed guests of mine have made a huge mess. In addition to that, these squirrels have made a nut of me. No pun intended. Over the past few days I have found myself walking around my house with my head craned to the ceiling, eyes peeled for the furry tailed creatures. I caught myself talking to them; I even talked one into simply walking out the front door. And that made eleven.

It's been twenty-four hours since I've seen a flying squirrel in my house, I feel as though the fiasco has finally come to an end. I am looking forward to cleaning my house now. I also look forward to putting the pieces back together of my saucer. Thank you to everyone who responded about my writing capabilities, it is definitely something I enjoy doing. Just so you know, every bit was unfortunately true!

The End, I hope.