Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Too much like Nat'l Lampoon's Christmas Vacation

If you've never seen National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, then you know all about the flying squirrel that launches itself out of the Griswald family tree in the living room. Our Byerly version of this same story started the morning after our Christmas party...

We awoke to our normal routine of getting up to feed the dog, Guinness, and letting him outside before returning to bed. As I entered the kitchen, I saw the cat intensely staring behind the oven, moving back and forth to each side. Tai's odd behavior had me intrigued as to what she was looking at. As I approached the oven, a small black shadow skurried by my feet into the dining room with Tai in pursuit after it. Being 5 a.m., I thought my eyes might be playing tricks on me, so I continued with my original plan of feeding the dog. After completing my task, I began to exit the kitchen to let Guinness out. At that very moment, the black shadow ran back into the kitchen with the cat still on it's tail. This time I was able to get a good look at it...it was a small squirrel or chipmunk. Frozen, I didn't know whether I should scream for Joe, who was upstairs soundly asleep, or quietly awake him in order to not frighten the invited guest anymore than it already was. I chose to go upstairs and wake Joe up; we returned to the kitchen to the same scenerio I described earlier...the cat stalking the mysterious creature behind the oven. We closed off all exits, leaving the back door as the only option before moving the oven so that the squirrel could make it's escape. Unfortunately, the little guy missed our intended mark and scampered into the hole above the air vent that goes under our cabinets. SHEESH, we failed. We thought maybe luck would be on our side and the hole would lead outside. We found out the next day, that was NOT the case.
The next morning was filled with screaming as I caught the critter on the top of our refrigerator, munching on my Rice Krispie treats. As I was not quite sure what kind of creature I was dealing with due to my brief encounter the previous day, I stood as still as a statue. The squirrel/chipmunk mimicked my stance and did not move an inch. Once I began to slowly move towards the kitchen entrance in order to get Joe out of bed, again, the critter flung himself off the top of the fridge to the cat who was waiting below. Hoping the cat would capture the little guy just long enough for me to grab something to put him in, the critter darted downstairs into the basement. Another capture averted...DAMN! This time it was all out war. Joe set up a homemade-trap with a clean, old kitty litter box, a pencil, string, and a piece of Rice Krispie. We thought surely the creature would fall for something sweet and we'd be able to return him to his natural habitat.

Day 3 started as any other, with me entering the kitchen, yet there was no sign of the critter. My hopes were high as I went downstairs to check our trap, but was let down when I saw that the trap stood the same way as we had placed it the day prior. "Okay" I thought "no more playing Mrs. Nice Gal". We HAD to get this thing out and NOW. We called the Ft. Knox maintanence guy who was going to call the Orkin man in addition to coming out to scope the situation. After searching the basement for openings, the Orkin man set a live trap using kitty food and would be back the next day to see if anything had been caught. We had to keep our two animals out of the basement so that they would not accidently set off the trap. I was keeping my fingers crossed for a resolution to this problem. I'm in NO WAY an animal harmer, but I am not willing to share my home with undomesticated animals. The maintanence guy came by later to check on the progress, but there wasn't any to report. The rest of the day was quiet, so we looked forward to what Wednesday held.

I awoke to nothing in my kitchen and nothing the basement trap. CRAP! As I climbed into my car, heading to my substitute teaching position, our neighbor, Grant, brought a large pickle jar to our backstep. Inside was what looked like a sugar-glider, munching on some bread. After talking to Joe two days prior, Grant, had been on the lookout for our uninvited guest as we share pipes between our two duplexes. He had heard a rustling in his kitchen the next prior and flicked on the lights to see the squirrel eating some candy on top of his fridge. He took the shirt off his back and grabbed an empty pickle jar and shuffled the squirrel into the glass container, locking the lid. Once confined, he poked some holes in the top lid and threw some bread inside. The little guy was finally captured, so that he could be returned to the wild. You would think the story ends here, but wait there's more...

The maintanence guy and Orkin man were informed of the capture and came over to properly return the squirrel to it's natural habitat. The maintanence man informed Joe and Grant that it would not be in our best interest to release the FLYING SQUIRREL - yes, it ended up being a flying squirrel - anywhere in the immediate vicinty as squirrels have the inate abililty to return to their previous location within a 1 mile radius. All four men agreed that the squirrel should be taken off base to ensure that it would not return...to be on the safe side. Now the logistics came down to the maintanence man and the Orkin man. In order for the Orkin man to get paid, he had to have the squirrel in his trap before releasing it in the local nature preserve. As Joe looked on, the maintanence man handed the glass jar over to the Orkin man who then transferred the squirrel into his cage. Moments after the maintanence man had voiced a concern that a flying squirrel could not be securely trapped in a wire cage, the little critter took a flying leap out of the cage, up the tree IN OUR FRONT YARD! Laughing hysterically, Joe realized that this story may never end! We're hoping that the squirrel doesn't seek revenge against us and return to our basement.


1 comment:

Amanda L said...

I tried to warn you guys about the evils of squirrels and you never listened.