A black squirrel has taken up residence in the garden shed. Not only was she or he, uninvited, the little rodent is squatting and doesn’t give a fig. It is cosy and warm amongst the garden pots. The west coast rain is no longer a problem. The rat with the bushy tail is dry. It lives upstairs on the shelf. The bathroom facility is downstairs, behind the shovel.
I discovered the unwanted guest Tuesday night. It was time to cut the front grass, no problem; I’ve cut grass since I was 10. I know my way around a gas mower. Un-latching the shed door, I heard something scurry, really fast, out under the eave, around the wall and onto the roof. Scurrying noises are not my favourite things. Nor are beady rodent eyes staring at me as if I was the intruder.
“Great, just great, please do not let there be baby squirrels in a nest, on the shelf, at eye level, just inside the flower basket!”
Suddenly I had visions of a flying rodent going for my throat or jumping on my head to protect babies from the human. I like the wildlife in the trees where they belong or better yet, in the forest, far, far away from me.
Now if the chivalrous Big Guy would take care of it, please. Not likely, I will have to call the wildlife guy, he is quite happy to help me, for a fee. I should have listened to the man last year. He suggest covering the open eaves with wire. Did I listen? Nooooooo.
Last year there were skunks trying to nest under the shed. This year, a squirrel is residing inside the shed. On the bright side, the animal is getting smaller and less odorous.
Stay warm, safe and best of all, loved.