Maxine's Story
Critters
Bonnie, Alison, Kristin, Judy, Jessie, Nicholas, Ross, Jeff, and Daniel ... this story is for you, my precious Grandchildren.
The perils of living alone are well known. Long before my husband died on our forty sixth anniversary, I knew what to fear. Loneliness, boredom, depression, lack of interests and inactivity .... (among other things.) Having chosen to stay in my home, on a two acre property has eliminated some of those worries. A solid network of family, friends, neighbors and Church 'family' has given me a fantastic support system that has alleviated others. I've had absolutely fabulous vacations to exotic places---and more to come. No danger of getting bored. In fact, my life has been rather exciting! No, the only problem I've faced is one that nobody at all warned me about! One that wasn't entirely new---after all Hank and I did raise our family on this place. It is just that I never had to deal with the 'critters' before---nor can I remember ever having the kind of problems these pests have brought to me since I've been alone.
My sons called them critters---whether they had two legs---or eight---or (shudder), more. Or even worse, none! Like the snake in the washing machine with the load of towels! Having discovered this 'nightmare', I ran to the phone and started calling my great support system.
This is the basic answer I got from the three men I spoke to. "Maxine. I love you---and I'd do anything you asked me to---but please don't ask me to deal with a snake." They were dead serious---didn't even want to talk about it. Accepting my fate, I got the tongs and a paper bag and did what I had to do.
One of the habits I've developed these last few years is a midnight walk and checkout of my property before going to sleep---very enjoyable and completely nonthreatening in spite of all the warnings I get from friends. The only danger I have encountered so far was a 'pine-cone' that hissed when I started to kick it out of my way! That poor dying bat was in no mood to be messed with.
There have been quite a few opossums I have carefully avoided, but the only real fright I've had was a couple of cats! What they were up to in the middle of the night, in the shadow of the retaining wall, I'm not sure. But I almost stepped on them and the resounding 'yeow' came from all three of us!
My first encounter with my real adversary was on my return home from one of those great vacations---a month in Hawaii in the middle of winter! It was hard to come back, and when I opened my folding doors into the living room, it got harder! Everything that could be tilted, moved, spilled, knocked down or shredded, was! (with the exception of the large furniture, for which I am still grateful.) In the midst of the shredded throw pillows lay the dead culprit---a squirrel. The fireplace in that room has an air vent---one that used to be left open. Not any more.
There is a tiny hard shelled beetle that comes and goes with impunity in my living room. Slugs are legendary in Oregon and mine are thriving. I've long known about moles and the damage they do to a yard. I'm raising generation after generation in spite of my efforts. A spider infestation---mice appeared---long columns of ants suddenly started marching in. I found the sources and the remedies. Birds took over the attic---new screens on the air vents in the soffits. Robins chose to eat every blueberry I raised---fine.
The bats in 2 of my fireplaces had to be dealt with. I out-foxed them and screened off the chimney tops. Surprising how much guano can stack up behind two dampers and how much of a mess it is to clean up!
Then there were the years when the robins attacked my picture window ---and kept up a steady rhythmic TAP-TAP-TAP-TAPPING until I was a nervous wreck and weary from washing the window over and over. I tried every remedy anyone suggested. Nothing I did stopped those birds.
There are opossums and raccoon families that share my property. We got along peacefully until I accidentally caught a baby raccoon in my (live) trap. I couldn't tell who was most upset, baby or mother! In any case, when it came to a show-down with mother, I backed down. Baby was carefully freed and I steered clear for several weeks.
Like most everyone else I have always enjoyed squirrels. I have shared my walnut crops with them---there was plenty for all. This is no longer true. Five years ago they began to devour the whole crop long before it was even ripe. When I realized what was happening I did everything I could think of to stop them---everything. (Not poison, not even to save my walnut harvest would I poison.) I tried any and all suggestions from friends and strangers. Nothing stopped the carpet of broken shells that littered the driveway and under the tree.
I was furious---I used those nuts in my baking and candy making, as well as sharing them with friends. It is here that I have to confess the act that has made me a hero to a few young boys I know, but a monster to most everyone else---horrified my grandchildren and continues to embarrass me. I took my 22 rifle and shot the worst offender right between the eyes.
The noise that gun made was astonishing. And since I live in the city it seemed prudent to put the gun away and get a trap. (I gave that poor squirrel a nice headstone in my rose garden, but it didn't stop the criticism---so once again---I AM SORRY.)
My skills in trapping grew and I found new homes for quite a number of squirrels. They went to open fields, to city and state parks---to neighborhoods of family and friends who wanted squirrels and offered to feed them. I was delivering squirrels to Washington, Clackamas and Marion Counties. Last year alone I relocated fifteen live ones. But by then I knew how hopeless it was---for every one I carried away, two more moved in. I simply lost the war---and have since bought my walnuts. I have no choice---but I did try.
The final indignity occurred last summer. For no reason I could think of my toilet refused to flush. I have a few plumbing skills but nothing I did made any difference. For the first time I called a rescue-rooter service. The young man who came to my door seemed confident---and set out to work. Using a plumbers snake he began and shortly retrieved a long tail! I heard his frantic calling---"Mam, Mam, Mam! you have a rat in your toilet!" I started to react to this dreadful news with alarm when I realized he was in worse shape than I was. One look at the long hair on the tail told me that it was a squirrel---not a rat! He assured me it didn't make any difference---he could not bear to deal with either one. He had a phobia for all rodents---couldn't even look at road kill.
Well. I looked into his pale and frightened face for a moment then said, "you go home, I will call someone else." But he said "No---he had to do this" and so he did---piece by piece. I was afraid to leave him---he had to carry the toilet bowl into the yard and I've never seen anyone work harder---or perspire more. The squirrel was jammed in the trap. It took more that two hours and he refused to charge me for the full amount. It was the first time he had encountered such a problem and he seemed to be considering a new career when he left. (How did the squirrel get into the toilet? I suppose it was through the vent that goes to the roof. Maybe he was looking for a new storage place for my walnuts.)
It has been more that eight years now since I lost my husband. I miss him and I always will. But inactive---or lonely? Not really. I find plenty to do---and as long as I have my critters I have a purpose and a challenge. I will prevail. And I am on guard for the next squirrel attack.
THE SCORE (so far)
Maxine: 1
Squirrels: 1 trashed living room
1 traumatized Rescue Rooter man
1 $129.00 Rescue Rooter bill
Several tanks of gas
5 crops of walnuts
They don't fear me at all.
PS ... .It seems I have left out the story that Susan feels is the best one ... or maybe the low point in my war with my squirrels!
I actually count two dead ones ... though this is the one I tend to forget. I came home one hot day and found a dying squirrel in my trap. It was very traumatic ... in fact even I couldn't understand my reaction. I just knew that there was a suffering animal and I had to do something. I briefly considered a Veterinarian, though it was after hours and I had but a few minutes before I had to be at the Roberts' home for a wedding reception .... where I had obligations! A dilemma ...
Water and shade didn't help ... and while I was frantically trying to come up with something, the poor thing did quit breathing ... I will never know why. Now I had a dead squirrel---quite another situation. Attending the reception gave me time to think.. It seemed that the only thing I hadn't tried was to actually display my intentions!
A pair of latex gloves and a hammer and nail and a determination to leave no effort untried led me to nail that little bummer to the tree .... figuring no friend of his could escape the message. Wrong. Did no good at all. No one can say I didn't try.
Pages 79 - 83
Website by Maxine