From the forthcoming Manual Publishing release

From the forthcoming Manual Publishing release ...

Trial and Error

By Joseph M. Smith

Man vs. Squirrel

A few winters ago, a squirrel decided to cope with the elements by crawling into our house through an attic vent. I didn’t think much of it at the time and for the first few nights of human-squirrel cohabitation, I actually enjoyed listening to it scurry around. Besides, since there was no food for it up there, I figured it would go back outside when the weather got a little better.

That all changed, though, when our furry visitor figured out that, while inside the wall, it could travel from the attic to the basement, where we kept a big bag of bird seed. It took me a few days to figure out what was going on and if the animal hadn’t been tearing out clumps of insulation from the wall and leaving them on the basement floor, I probably would have never figured it out. Until, of course, I picked up the bag of seed, which was now completely empty save a few squirrel turds.

Acknowledging that something had to be done, I devised a plan to capture the beast and set it free a few miles away from our house. It was shortly after devising this plan that I learned how inept I am at catching squirrels.

A lifetime of cartoon watching had taught me that rodents can be caught with simple box traps. So, after building a “blind” (read: a pile of crap I could hide behind while I waited for the squirrel to come into the basement) and a trap that consisted of a box resting on an empty water jug with a long extension cord tied to it (I couldn’t find any string…), I bought another bag of seed and put a small pile of it underneath the box. To give the squirrel a false sense of security, I let it eat the first offering. When that was gone, I replaced it and then hid behind the blind.

Around this time my more intelligent wife suggested that we call the good folks at our local animal control office and let them take care of it. I objected. I told her not to worry and that the squirrel would be caught in no time. It was a complete and total lie. I knew that trapping the squirrel would take some effort, but this was my challenge--the classic struggle of man vs. nature playing itself out right in my own basement--and I didn’t want any outsiders meddling in my affairs. I had never felt more alive!

A few days went by and I still hadn't caught the squirrel (which I now called “Nemesis”). Again, my wife suggested calling animal control and again I objected, even though I was beginning to get discouraged. I can’t tell you how many hours I sat behind the blind in the basement, waiting for that damned squirrel to show.

Eventually, the squirrel came and it even went for the seed I had laid out for it. Unfortunately, after several failed attempts to catch it, it became apparent that the squirrel was smarter than I had expected. No matter how long I let it snack on the seed before I pulled the cord connected to the jug, the beast would always be halfway to its hideout in the wall by the time the box hit the floor.

After watching this scenario play itself out time after time, I got another, better idea: I set the trap again, but this time I hid in a spot closer to the squirrel’s port of entry. Thus, the next time the squirrel went for the seed, I ran behind it and jammed an old shoe into its hole, thereby preventing its escape into the wall.

That was when things got ugly.

As it watched me block the doorway to its hideout, the squirrel took off for the other side of the basement. My plan worked! The squirrel was exposed. My box trap, however, was now useless, so I had to improvise. That was when I grabbed a broom and a laundry basket, and went after the beast in hot pursuit. The animal had crawled up to the ceiling and hid behind some ductwork. Tasting victory, I jabbed at it with the broom and, after about 5 minutes of poking and prodding, I knocked it loose. I tried to throw the laundry basket over it while it was on the ground but missed-- the squirrel was running zig-zag patterns across the floor at lightning speed. Then, with a leap that can only be described as graceful, the squirrel hopped from the floor on to the wall, dug in its nails, and froze, as if taking a moment to think about its next move. This was my time to strike. I picked up the laundry basket and charged. The squirrel, however, had one more trick up its sleeve. As I ran toward it, it leapt toward me with eyes of fire. The time for flight was over. The cuddly creature was out for blood!

Terrified, as I was not expecting the squirrel to attack, I dropped the basket and held the broom like a bat. When the squirrel was within range, I swung. The broom and squirrel connected and the gray demon, bless his sharp claws and pointy teeth, went flying across the basement and landed on the ground right beneath its shoe-blocked escape hatch. Shaken from the beating it had just received, the squirrel wobbled up the wall, pulled the shoe out of the way, and scurried into the hole. I tell you it was as magnificent as it was unbelievable.

Defeated and still a bit shaky from the squirrel’s counter-attack, I dropped the broom and headed upstairs to tell Lisa what had just happened. With an open mouth, she stood and listened to my tale in awe. Then, when it was all over, she called animal control (she had already placed the number by the phone). This time I consented, for it was clear that I wasn't dealing with just any old squirrel--or so I thought. Three hours later, the squirrel found itself trapped in a wire cage, done in by its weakness for a peanut butter-coated Ritz cracker.