MY HOUSE, Mich. – If you told me when I was a kid that thousands of people would someday be heavily invested in my everyday life, I probably would have thought I was pitching for the Detroit Tigers. Or doing play-by-play for the Pistons.
Nope, everyone just wants to hear about the squirrel. Close enough, I guess.
When I posted the first story about my thrilling victory on Feb. 24, I figured we could all have a few Friday laughs and move on with our lives. I was so young and naive. I’ve learned a lot about squirrels since then. (And improvisation. And the value of sturdy doors.)
Hundreds of people reached out with advice or to share their own harrowing tales of squirrel invasion. We’re like some sort of cool but strange online support group. So it feels only right to let you know how this whole saga came to an end. (Please let it be the end.) Closure is good. (Please let this be closure.)
Since last week’s update, Revenge of the Squirrel, a lot has happened. And the whole time I was obsessing night and day over how the squirrel was getting in -- very normal and healthy.
If you’ll remember, we couldn’t get anyone to come out Tuesday night after that crazed animal put our basement door through a wood chipper. Critter Control told us they would arrive Wednesday afternoon, so, naturally, I spent every hour in between trying to solve the mystery.
There’s a lot to break down. It might be hard to explain it all and also be funny. So bear with me.
When I wasn’t lurking around in the dark with a baseball bat (truly a piñata’s worst nightmare) or shooting dirty looks out the window at creatures that have (hopefully) never been in my home, here’s what I was thinking about:
- It’s suspicious that after years of living here without any issues, an animal happened to get into our house the morning after our first extended power outage.
- A commenter on my first squirrel article said, “He’ll be back.” It was either someone who’s been through some stuff, or the squirrel has a burner account.
- The hole.
I know, I know, I can’t just say, “The hole” without context. Don’t worry, I’m getting there.
First, I have to come clean about something: Remember when I went into the basement on Tuesday in search of whatever animal shredded the bottom of our door? I mentioned that the dog bed had been dragged into the middle of the floor, but there was something else, too.
It was, um, this:
I know, it looks bad. That is a very large hole. It wouldn’t fit in the picture, but hanging right above it was a neon sign that said, “This is where the squirrels come from.”
Why didn’t I include this in the last story? Shame, mostly. I can get distracted at times, but I’m usually not overlook-a-giant-hole-in-the-wall clueless.
Clearly this crater was not new. If the squirrel could chew a perfect circle through three inches of brick, I’m pretty sure my basement door would be in much worse shape. But how had I never noticed that hole? I promise I’m not hopeless -- I’ve gotten like three Jeopardy! questions right in a row before. That doesn’t just happen.
Doubts about my intelligence aside, I was pretty sure at this point that the squirrel was getting in through that hole. And I had a feeling it was the same squirrel both times.
But how?
I kept thinking back to the storm that caused our power outage. I wrote this in the first story: “We were without power pretty much all day Thursday -- could that have had something to do with it?”
I don’t really believe in coincidences, so when an animal happened to get into our kitchen the day after a massive ice storm, my gut told me something had been damaged.
But after the first Critter Control guy assured us that he had identified the problem on the side of the house, the last place I thought to look was the middle of the basement. Those bricks are nowhere near any exterior walls -- how could something get in from almost the exact center?
Here’s the thing: Long before we moved in, the previous owner had built an addition to the house. Part of that addition included a new fireplace, but originally, the brick you see in the photo above (you know, with the teensy-weensy hole) led to the only chimney. To this day, the older chimney ventilates the furnace.
Needless to say, that structure is very old. And old things do not love being pelted by ice from the sky. Even I know that.
By the time the new Critter Control guy arrived, I had the whole story figured out. When I showed him the hole in the basement, he said something like, “Oh, yep, that could be it,” but it sounded a lot like, “You needed me to figure this out?”
Listen pal, it’s been a heck of a week. But don’t worry, I was about to be vindicated.
He went to take a closer look, so for the first time, I pushed the dog bed out of the way. Something metal scraped along the floor beneath it.
Wait, I’ve seen that before!
Immediately I remembered that it had been hanging on the bricks. Except I had no idea before that it had been blocking a hole -- I just figured the previous owner liked ugly metal paper plate looking things.
But sure enough, the critter guy understood. He said it’s a type of cap that they (chimney carvers? I don’t know, just “they”) used to stick in old gaps when they made new ones for new furnaces.
He also told me squirrels release strong pheromones that guide them back to places they’ve visited previously. So that explains why the squirrel came back into our house after I chased him out of the kitchen, and why he was so determined to get back upstairs through the basement door.
To my wife’s utter delight, the Critter Control guy did not patch up the hole. Instead, he stuck a towel on it so we could monitor whether the squirrel came back. Seemed a bit weird to me, but hey, my scream-and-chase method didn’t seem to be overly effective, either.
He was going to come back Thursday with live traps and patch everything up. I had won another battle, but the war was not yet over. Far from it.
At 2:28 p.m. Thursday (according to my many angry pictures), I was minding my own business and glanced innocently out the window.
Squirrel? Squirrel!
I was out the door in seconds. No socks, so what. No jacket, didn’t care. I had to know.
He was already scrambling up a small tree and jumped onto the gutter. He climbed to the peak of the roof and sauntered across it like he owned the place. I shout-whispered something at him, trying to get my point across while maintaining some shred of dignity with the neighbors.
For awhile he froze, staring down at me. Time stood still, a silent battle of wills between man and critter, a crossroads in our relationship. (It was really cold and I cared that I didn’t have a jacket.)
I wanted a video so I could show the Critter Control folks exactly how the squirrel was getting in, so I stood there for a minute and 39 seconds, filming as a very common animal sat idly on my roof. I hope my neighbors were all on vacation or at least very far away from their windows.
Eventually, I stopped recording. My hand was freezing and nothing was happening. Of course, seconds later, that jerk dove right inside.
Obscenities.
I stormed back indoors, mumbling something I can’t remember. Pretty sure it was not pro-squirrel.
When the Critter Control guys showed up, I was very eager to tell them all about what happened. They did not care. Probably because they deal with squirrels every day.
We could hear him when we got down to the basement, and they followed his squeals to the hole in the bricks. He was in there. They placed the metal cap back over the hole and lathered it with industrial glue. I don’t care if they fill it with cement -- that thing and I will always have trust issues.
They put a live trap downstairs in case the squirrel brought any friends (shudder), and went up to the roof. One guy looked down the chimney and tried to sweet talk the squirrel out while affixing a one-way door to the top. (It was a little weird, I’m actually siding with the squirrel on this one.)
Basically, with his not-so-secret entrance to my basement sealed, the squirrel’s only way out of the chimney would eventually be to climb out the one-way door. Then, he wouldn’t be able to get back inside.
On Tuesday, the sweet talkin’ Critter Control expert will return, make sure there are no squirrels in my chimney, remove the one-way door, and seal it up for good. In the meantime, I’ve had every other inch of my house inspected for weak points -- we’re getting the anti-squirrel deluxe package.
Is this a happy ending? I think so. My wife might not be hanging out in the basement anytime soon, but it could have been a whole lot worse. We aren’t hurt, and the damage to our house is minimal. People struggle with much bigger issues all the time.
We took a walk the other day, and instead of passing squirrels without a second glance like rational human beings, we glared at them and thought things like “don’t you dare” or “if you even think about it...” Which is totally unfair because 99.9% of them have not been inside our house.
Maybe our relationship with squirrels can be mended over time. Or maybe the rest of our lives will be haunted by bushy tails and brick holes.
But no matter what happens next, this will be the final public chapter of Derick’s Squirrel Tails. Let’s be honest, it went on about three articles too long.