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FRANK PIECES:

Squirrels in the Crawl Space

by FRANK O'DONNELL
April 2007

I think Walt Disney would love my house.

I have geese dining on my front lawn. Woodpeckers attacking my chimney cap. And squirrels in my crawl space.

The only thing missing is a family of dressmaking mice in the walls, designing my daughter's prom gown.

Bucolic, you say. Cute. Even endearing.

It's none of the above.

It's annoying. Exasperating. Maddening even.

Let me tell you about the squirrels.

They moved in about two years ago, after a couple of trees bounced off our roof in a heavy wind, opening a gash in the soffit. By the time we could get a contractor to fix the damage, the squirrels had taken up residence in the crawl space.

We knew they were there. We could hear them scrabbling around, chirping away occasionally. Yes, squirrels chirp. They also squeal. And they get along like teenaged siblings – i.e., not at all.

We knew they were there, but we also knew they'd be gone as soon as the roof was fixed. The inconvenience was temporary.

 "You got squirrels," the contractor told me when he arrived with his crew.

 "Yeah, but when you fix the roof, they'll just go somewhere else."

His head nodded yes, but his eyes flashed no. "I should wait 'til afternoon to do the last bit of the work. They should be out looking for food then. Should be all set."

Three "shoulds" in one paragraph. Not a good sign. Not a good sign at all.
When I got back later in the day, the roof and the soffit looked good as new.

But the next morning, I heard the familiar scrabbling on the ceiling. Had the contractor boarded up these bushy-tailed rodents? I went outside to check. And saw a squirrel-sized hole chewed through the brand-new soffit.

The situation was escalating.

I borrowed a friend's Hav-A-Heart trap and baited it with peanut butter crackers.

Within an hour, the trap was sprung, but empty. Not only had the squirrels managed to avoid capture, they'd also managed to nab the crackers. I could just picture one propping open the trap door while the other scooted in to retrieve the snacks, then letting the door go.

As Yogi might have said, they were smarter than the average squirrel.

Time to call in the professionals.

First, I called our town's animal control officer. "Sorry, we don't do squirrels," he said.

"I don't understand. You came out for a rabid skunk not too long ago," I countered.

"Sure, rabid skunks are easy. We don't do squirrels."

So I got out the Yellow Pages and started calling the pest control companies. When I told them I had squirrels, they mimicked the animal control officer. "We don't do squirrels."

One company advertises that they'll remove alligators for free.

"Sure, alligators are easy. But we don't do squirrels."   

They all said only one company did squirrels. But none of them knew the number.  

I found the number, called it, and described my problem.

"Sure, we can take care of that for you."

"Great. How much?"

"$200…"

"Terrific. When can you come out?"

"… for the first squirrel."

"I'm sorry, it sounded like you said $200 for the first squirrel."

"Right. Every squirrel after that is $75."

"Wait a minute. How do I know you're getting my squirrels?"

"Well, you really don't. But odds are good, we'll get them. Eventually."

Odds were also good that I'd purge the squirrel population from my neighborhood while racking up a five-figure bill.

For that kind of money, I want DNA testing to prove the squirrels being removed are the ones from my crawl space. That service, however, is not available.

So I was back on my own. A friend suggested that I cover the hole with some sort of screen to keep the squirrels out.

Made some sense. Putting up a metal barrier could be just what the doctor ordered. And it worked.

For about two days. That's how long it took the squirrels to chew a hole through the screen. Metal-chewing rodents.

I'm stymied.

I don't want to resort to poison – just my luck, the squirrels would die in the crawl space, and I'd have to get the house fumigated.

I don't want to resort to firearms – just my luck, the squirrels have weapons up there, and I'd lose that firefight. I make a much better target than any little squirrel.

So I'll wait until someone gives me a better idea.

Meanwhile, if the Disney people see an animated feature in this little story, I don't need much in the way of royalties.

Just enough to pay for the DNA testing to be sure the squirrels being hauled away are the ones that used to live in my crawl space.