After bringing baby Hunter home from the hospital on Thursday August 6th, we were in for a treat. A freakin' squirrel in our basement. And the best part was that I think he was in there since AT LEAST August 4th, induction day, cuz I had gone in the basement that morning and not only did I see insulation lying on the basement floor but weirdly enough insulation fell out of the ceiling while I was down there. I was nowhere near it and it just randomly fell from the ceiling and I couldn't figure out why. Once we realized there was a damn furry-tailed rat (Daryl's description of squirrels, heh heh) in our basement, it dawned on me that was probably what caused the insulation to come down.
Then began Daryl's plan of attack.
1. First Daryl left our bilco doors open, that lead to the outside, for a few hours hoping that Mr. Squirrel would get the hint and realize his presence wasn't welcome. No such luck.
2. Second, Daryl, realizing where the squirrel came in from (down the chimney and through a hole into the basement) cemented up the hole after chasing the squirrel back in. Then he put on the heat for about a minute or so (don't worry, he wasn't trying to fry the little critter!) to hopefully smoke the squirrel back up and out of the chimney. That did NOT work.
3. Third was the Hav-a-Heart trap that we borrowed from his Grandpa. The little squirrel-bastard repeatedly kept setting the trap off but NOT getting caught in it!
4. Then came the bee-bee (sp?) gun. Big D sat quietly in the basement, gun in hand, hunting his prey. But of course the furry brat stayed hidden. I guess that squirrel was no dummy.
5. This is actually a continuation of the bee-bee gun but it's sorta funny how it came about. Monday August 10th, my first day without Big D after Hunter was born, I was watching tv with my Mom who had come over. Suddenly, from out of the corner of my eye, I saw something dart underneath the door leading down to the basement. And I heard a strange "scratch-scratch" sound. When I turned to look I didn't see anything. But when it happened AGAIN, I looked and saw...a TINY GRAY PAW WITH RAZOR SHARP CLAWS desperately clawing underneath our basement door leading into the house! Mr. Squirrel wanted IN! Tucker tried to nose his way over but I yelled at him to go lay down cuz the last thing I wanted was the squirrel scratching my poor dog's snout. Anyway, I called Daryl and at first I was okay with it but the more frantically Mr. Squirrel started to scratch at our flimsy basement door, the more frantic that I became that he would claw his damn way into the house before the end of the day when Daryl came home!
Needless to say, Big D came home and brought out the bee-bee gun again. He lay on the floor in wait, staring under the crack of the door (cuz earlier I had shone a flashlight and found myself eye to beady eye with the damn squirrel) and when the animal came back up the stairs, Daryl shot it, point-blank. BULLSEYE!!!
Daryl threw open the door, positive the squirrel was dead or badly hurt as he saw with his own eyes that the shot hit him. The squirrel was a few steps down so he shot at him AGAIN and watched his furry body fly through the air...and then BEGIN RUNNING AWAY!! Mr. Squirrel then ran and hid and that was that.
6. Over that weekend, after more frustrating days of not being able to catch/shoot/release the damn squirrel, Daryl went back downstairs with his bee-bee gun. He shot at him one more time and then in desperation, began banging a damn shovel around and actually did hit the squirrel once, twice. THE SQUIRREL DID NOT DIE.
7. Next was the rat traps. Big D put up about four to five rat trips with big globs of peanut butter on each. The squirrel, who we KNOW was starving at this point (that's the reason I think he was trying to get into the house, it was always after I cooked something) did not go near any of those damn rat traps. SQUIRREL: 7 HUMANS: 0
8. A couple of days later I went downstairs to do laundry. It was a chore that I had been dreading cuz I didn't want to go near the "MANIAC squirrel". I banged on the basement door a bunch of times first, then cracked the door and peeked down. No squirrel and the rat trap Daryl had placed on the third step down was still there with its glob of peanut butter. I nervously crept down the stairs and as I stepped off the bottom step, it hit me.
After well over a week (possibly MORE) of no food or water, being shot with a bee-bee gun multiple times and whacked with a shovel (after all our HUMANE efforts had failed miserably, mind you!)...Mister Squirrel had kicked the bucket.
Now we have a dead squirrel SOMEWHERE in our basement, smelling worse and worse every day, accumulating disgusting flies that escape up into the house all the time. Even though the poor furry-tailed rat died, I feel like he's still gotten the last word...