The evidence was there in early winter. Scatterings of rough-edged little squares of paper and cardboard. Shredded leaves. A random sock.
One evening, Len and I went out to the garage, armed with a broomstick and a bright work light to -- it turned out -- scream in terror and chase away the squirrel who'd been nesting there. Quote of the night, from Len, after the squirrel used his shoulder as a stepping stone in its frenzied path out of the rafters: "It was on me!"
Our garage is rustic. It's over a hundred years old and is really more of an enclosed carport or a well-built shack. It is impossible to completely protect it from nature, but Len closed up some particularly accessible openings to discourage the squirrel from returning.
Life went on, until another discovery in late winter. Animal tracks in the snow. Popcorn kernels spilling from the bean bag set, which we now realize should not be stored in the garage. Then, with the sneak preview of springtime weather one morning, I heard rustling on the back porch (underneath which is the best place for squirrels to sneak into the garage). Sure enough, mama squirrel was there, chewing up a piece of cardboard into fresh nesting material.
I let the dog scare her away, but she didn't go far. She was watching us, giving us the squirrel side-eye and some vocal scolding. So, I went on a stakeout. I stood still and silent in the garage, waited for her to venture back. She did soon and hesitated at the threshold under the porch, sensing my presence. This time, when I banged on the wall to scare her away, she ran away chittering and screeching -- and she kept on screeching from a fencepost nearby. Clearly, she was very ticked off but wanted to stay close, which meant one thing: baby squirrels.
I braved an ascent up the ladder to find a new nest in the garage rafters. I jostled the leaves with a broomstick and then stuck my head near to it for a listen. There was a soft irritated murmur -- a "whiny growl" as one animal removal expert refers to it.
I'm not cruel. I also know that mama squirrel will chew through almost anything to return to her offspring, so sealing off her entrance is not an option yet. Also, I mentioned the garage is rustic. It's not worth it to us (yet) to call animal removal services. The solution for now is humane harassment. Be a nuisance. Make the space feel unsafe for raising their young, and the squirrels might relocate themselves.
Every couple of hours, I revisited the garage to make loud human-noises, rap on things with the broomstick, and turn on the overhead light. Only one other time that day did I encounter the squirrel inside. The nest was clearly empty by the next day. Either the baby was old enough to climb out on its own and follow mom to a new nest, or mom wasted no time building a new shelter and carried the baby away in her mouth. I saw her later around the neighbor's log pile...
However, a few days later, we entered the garage and heard scampering overhead. The squirrel was back in the rafters. Hoping to move back in? Or just going after a number of walnuts she has stashed in the corners? After giving her a chance to leave, I poked around.
Another nest of leaves -- just a few feet away from the previously vacated nests. And now anytime I poked a broomstick near the nest, the whiny growl from within it was loud enough I could hear it from the ground. Another day of random disruptions, followed by another empty nest... followed by the return of growling squirrels. We even tried soaking the nest and surrounding rafters with vinegar-water to repel the rodents (one good reason to keep your childhood Super Soaker water gun). They're super annoyed for sure, but not enough to move -- especially not during this stretch of colder weather. We'll have to keep up the frequent annoyances (and our own fear of squirrel paratroopers) for several days to persuade these unwelcome tenants to permanently pack up.
And we'll add to our spring chore list: clean out the garage and take the leaf blower to the rafters.
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