Monthly Archives: July 2011

Gophers

Gopher Control

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get rid of gophers

“Son, what I’m about to show you is vital gopher control information, or as I like to call them, rodents of mass destruction.”

It looked like my granddad wanted me to perk up and be all ears for this vital piece of information he was going to share with me.  He had worked this farm all of his life, and had been disappointed and proud when his only son, my father, wanted to become a lawyer instead of a farmer.  I don’t know if my father wanted to make up for this somehow by sending me to live with my granddad for a few summers, or if he really thought it would help me become a better man, but for whatever reason, here I was stuck on this hot, dry patch of earth for the summer instead of hanging out at the beach with my friends.

Last year, when I arrived, my grandmother greeted me with a huge smile, an even bigger hug, and a large lunch before sending me out to work alongside my granddad as he cleared debris out of the canal.  It wasn’t exactly what a thirteen year-old boy wanted to do after a long and lonely plane trip to the middle of nowhere.  I would have much rather spent the afternoon adjusting to farm life by playing a few computer games and then going into town to meet some of the local kids and try to have fun.  As it was, it was two weeks before I even got into town.  Everyone kind of dubbed me a snob from a big city, so it wasn’t until the very end of the summer that I actually made a couple of friends.

We hadn’t kept in touch after I left, but here I was again, looking at another dismal summer doing farm work for which I was completely unprepared.  My surfer muscles didn’t really help me pitch hay, although my granddad was impressed that I was “strong enough to last longer than last year.”

But, now, the two of us were standing in the middle of a field dotted with small gopher hills.  Granddad had already shared with me his impressive cussing skills, when one of his monstrous farm machines ran over one too many gopher hills and broke.  Now, he was going to impart his wisdom regarding gopher control to me, and acted like he was giving me a major gift that would help improve my life tremendously.

“Son, I’ve tried all the tricks.  Oil, poison, traps.  I’ve sunk a lot of money this last year into gopher control, and I have finally found the secret.”  He reached into his pocket, where I assumed he’d hidden some secret vial of goop he’d cooked up.  Instead, he pulled out a cell phone, called a gopher control service, hung up and looked at me.  “Nothing to be done for the rest of the day until they get rid of the gophers for me.  How bout going into town for some ice cream?”

I never thought I’d be grateful for gophers, but I sure was that day!

Rats

Rat Control

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rat removal

“I’m calling my boyfriend, because he’ll know what to do about rat control!”  Tish, who was normally so sweet, nearly screeched this sentence.  I had come home late from working a long shift at the campus library, and had nothing but a couple of hours of study ahead of me.  But, when I walked in our front door, I nearly tripped over a pile of furniture and various belongings forming a maze throughout the small house we all rented together.

At first, I thought my roomies were playing a practical joke on me.  Last week, three of us had packed up all of Trish’s belongings, including her bedding, and left a note on her bare floor that read, “We’ll miss you.”  She’d walked in, taken one look at the empty room, and burst out laughing.  It was the kind of thing we all did to each other, so it was no wonder that I mistook my roomies’ maze of household items as a practical joke.

And, I have to admit, I didn’t believe them at first when they told me they were doing rat control.  I thought it was more of the joke.

But, when I saw the rat streaking across the room, leaping over the turned-over ironing board and a box that had once held file folders, I just about leaped out of my skin.  Over the course of the next hour and a half, the four of us tried unsuccessfully to perform rat control ourselves, but Trish was right.  It was time to bring in a guy, as much as we hated to admit it.

Once Trish’s boyfriend arrived, he couldn’t stop laughing at my roommates’ maze, and I have to admit, I was a little fuzzy as to why they thought they needed to make a maze.  Apparently, they had discovered a rat in the couch, and built a pathway to the front door, in hopes the rat would leave the couch, follow the path, and go outside.  Unfortunately, after they banged on the couch with a broom, that rat ran out and leaped up and over the walls of the maze.  So, instead of leading the rat safely outside, all the belongings scattered on the floor only served to add to the chaos as we all tripped over things trying to flush out the rat and then run away from it at the same time.

Rat control was not our strong point.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t something Trish’s boyfriend did, either.  I think he only made it worse, by laughing at us and making the rat even more frenzied than before.

After another forty-five minutes of fruitlessly chasing the rat and running away from it, we finally decided we had to call a professional rat control service.  After all, where there is one rat, there may be many more.  And, I didn’t want to live in a rat maze anymore than a rat did.

Voles

Vole Control

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As a vole, I am terrified at any efforts at vole control.  I’ve learned, through watching vole neighbors, brothers and sisters, that most vole control means a swift and sure death for us.  I’m not an adventurous sort.  I have kept a mental list of all the vole extermination methods used, vole traps, vole poison, and everything else, just so I can avoid them.

Some of my cousins, and even some of the local rats and gophers, make fun of me.  They call me a worry-wart, and tell me I’m more likely to die of a heart attack when I hear a loud noise than I will of any vole control method.  That may be true, and they can make fun all they like.  I intend on staying alive.

Some of the more unwise rodents dig tunnels through people’s yards, which is a sure-fire way to attract attention to us.  They end up destroying the grass, creating tunnels that look like brown dead trails on the surface.  Or, they eat flower bulbs that people have planted so carefully, or garden vegetables.  I’m told that people’s yards are beautiful, lush places where the ground is soft from constant watering, roots, flowers and garden plants are tender and juicy, and the people actually keep our natural predators away, as much as they can.  So, there’s not as big a threat from snakes, raccoons or other creatures that prefer a meal of voles rather than a nice juicy mouthful of plant roots.  I’ve noted, however, in my intense observations, that these predators will come anyway, when there is a high population of voles.  Lots of voles equals more determined predators, whether or not people want them there.

So, while I may not enjoy the juicier eatings, dig in the easier dirt, and while I may live a more solitary life, I have stayed alive much longer than most of my compatriots.  In fact, I just located a perfect place to live.  It is in someone’s yard, but it’s far, far away from the home, so I doubt even the household cat will become aware of my presence.  There is a wonderful compost pile right up against a sturdy fence.  A black tarp covers it, so I’m afforded warmth during the winter and protection from rain or snow.  Occasionally, the people will troop back to my pile, pull back the tarp, and dump delicious fresh plants on the top.

It’s hard not to feel superior at times.  I am wise enough to avoid vole control methods employed by the same people who bring me offerings of food and provide me a safe place to live.  If I can make sure they never learn of my existence, I could live a very long and healthy, fat life.

Woodpeckers

Woodpecker Control

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I am so very clever to have outwitted a cat, that surely no woodpecker control will work on my superior bird mind.  Here I am, roosting just within the cat’s reach.  I flaunt my amazing abilities directly in the feline face.

It began so innocently, before I was even aware a cat lived here.  Woodpeckers, just like me, were searching for the most ideal place to nest and feast.  Some stuck to the woods, more secure in the tried and true tree trunks.  Some drummed high up off the ground, on building roofs, tentatively tapping on the very top of buildings to find a safe place to open up a hole and nest inside.  But, me, I love adventure.  I love a thrill.  I love to see just how far I can go, and then go a little further.  There is no woodpecker control where I am concerned.  I just am, and everyone else must deal with it.

I flew right under a porch, testing out each support beam until I found one with a pleasing enough hollow sound.  But, oh, so clever little me, I chose the perfect little spot to tear into right at the base of that beam.  With a sharp eye out for any predators, I used my elegant and wonderfully sharp and hard beak to open up a tiny crack.  Then, I peered inside to make sure my instincts were correct.  Oh, yes, it was perfectly safe inside.  With persistent tapping, I created a hole barely large enough to allow my little bird body inside.  And, then, I crawled inside and explored my new home.  Just as I thought, it was absolutely perfect for me.  Dry, warm enough, with a small enough hole to protect me and my young ones from most tenacious predators.  That is, if the predators were daring or even smart enough to pursue us, which I highly doubted.  The genius of it was, I could build my nest up high enough inside to fully protect the little woodpeckers, and if any predator stuck a paw inside, I could just retreat even higher into the hollow beam, and stay completely safe.

That’s when I found out about the cat.  It just makes me want to laugh.  They thought that stupid feline was good at woodpecker control?  Please.  It took a day before it even discovered my presence.  Even then, it was so confused about what to do with a bird that was so daring as to build the opening to its nest so close to the ground.  For another half-day, all it could do was sniff around, and try to put its scent on the beam.  As if that would make me leave.  I felt so daring around this dumb animal that I would even stick my head out of the hole when it was right there, and it didn’t do a darn thing!

No, these humans are going to have to do better than a cat to get rid of me.  Woodpecker control, indeed.

Skunks

Skunk Control

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“Dad!  Dad!  Dad!  Call Skunk Control right now!!  There’s a skunk in the house!”

I was working at home, because my wife was really sick today and was resting in our darkened bedroom with a cool washcloth over her eyes.  To be honest, I hadn’t really needed to stay home.  Our two girls are twelve and ten, and can pretty much take care of themselves, but they still needed someone to drive them to and from school, and I wanted to be available to get whatever my wife needed.  She rarely got sick.  In fact, the last time she was this sick was over three years ago.  But, I liked to really pamper her and take worries off her mind so that she could get well quickly.  She is the rock of our family, and we just don’t function very well without her.

So, when I heard my twelve year-old daughter, Kenzie, yelling about skunk control, I rushed right out of the home office.  “Shhhh!  Don’t wake your mom!  Now, show me what you’re talking about.”

My ten year old, Baylee, was holding her phone up, recording the whole thing.  “This is sooo cool!” she grinned.

“Dad.  It’s in the kitchen.  You have GOT to call skunk control right now.”

I started to walk towards the kitchen, my two pre-teen girls trailing behind me, alternating between squeaking with alarm, shushing each other, and giggling with excitement.  Ah, to be young again.

But, when I opened the kitchen door, it was skunk-free.  Kenzie jumped up into a nearby chair, squealing as softly as she could, “Where is it?  Where is it?”  Baylee just kept recording.

I picked up a broom and started walking from room to room.  Kenzie had jumped down from her perch to trail me, along with my video-recording Baylee.  There!  It huddled in the living room, tucked between the loveseat and side table.  I froze, unsure of what to do next, as Kenzie whispered, “Don’t scare it, Dad.  It’ll spray.”  That’s exactly what had been going through my mind.  If it sprayed in here, we would have to replace everything from the carpet to the furniture to the drapes.

The skunk caught sight of us, and decided it had enough.  It walked across the living room floor, bold and waddling its behind at us, as if to say it wasn’t worried about us at all.  The three of us followed at a distance, but I knew we’d all get sprayed if it decided it had to defend itself.  It was heading back towards the kitchen, so I urgently whispered to Kenzie that she needed to go the other way, back into the kitchen before it got there, and open up the door to the garage.  “Now!” I urged her.  She took off, threw the door open, and got out of the way just as the skunk walked into the garage.

“Baylee, give me your phone.”

“But, Dad, I’m still filming.”

“Baylee, give me the phone.  It’s time to call skunk control.”

As she did, my wife called down the stairs.  “Honey, what’s going on?”

“Nothing!” I yelled out, as I glared at my daughters, willing them to stay silent on the matter.  Skunk control would take care of this first, and then I’ll let my wife know.

Pigeons

Pigeon Control

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pigeon removal

My brother’s nuts, because he thinks the pigeons in our bedroom are a sign of good luck, but I know it’s better to get pigeon control in here immediately.

We live in a typical big apartment building, devoid of any personality.  From the outside, it’s just an ugly white, broken up by tiny black windows, fire escape ladders, and streaks of bird droppings.  It has even less personality on the inside, where ancient floors echo footsteps off white walls, and the doors leading to individual apartments are decorated only by little black numbers.

It’s a whole different world inside our apartment, though.  Mom doesn’t make a lot of extra money at her job, so it’s not like we had an interior designer come through to transform our small, two-bedroom apartment into a sanctuary from the world.  But, Mom sure does believe in color, and she’s draped bright red curtains over the windows, painted our room an eye-searing blue, and she’s filled every shelf with brightly colored glass knick-knacks.

My brother’s turning ten next week, and the only thing he’s begged for is a pet.  I know that’s not going to happen, and Mom’s even explained to him we can’t have a pet in this small apartment.  It would stink, we don’t have room for a pet, and worst of all, my brother’s allergic.

So, I can’t really blame him when he thought his birthday wish came true early.  He loves to open our bedroom window to hear all the noises of the kids playing in the playground below, and to his delight, two pigeons flew in the open window.  Once the pigeons were in, he slammed the window shut.  The pigeons didn’t seem to mind too much.  They just walked around on the window sill and cooed every now and then.

As soon as I realized what happened, I went to call the building supervisor so he could get pigeon control up to our apartment whenever he got around to it.  I knew Mom would have a fit if she came home from work tonight to find two pigeons in the house.  Already, there was an ugly stain on the wall under the window, and I swore I would not be the one to clean it up.  My brother was rushing around the kitchen looking for old bread and a bag of sunflower seeds he swore was in the cupboard, while I yelled at him that we had to let pigeon control take care of the problem.  He kept yelling back that the pigeons were not a problem, that they were his birthday pigeons, so I should just shut up.

When my brother’s got something in mind, he’s super stubborn, so I just sighed.  The guys who come up to do pigeon control can deal with my brother.  I did my part, I dunno who’s gonna clean up the mess, but it ain’t gonna be me.  I just laid back down on the couch with my book and waited for either pigeon control or Mom to come home, whichever came first.

Bats

Bat Control

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“What’s he doing?”

“He says it’s bat control.”

“Seriously?  He looks . . . he looks like he’s just crazy.”

“I know, right?  But, he says there’s a bat in his dorm room and he’s taking care of bat control by himself.”

The boy in question was a freshman, and was dancing, or jerking around, with a sheet in front of his window at night in a first-floor dorm room.  He’d opened up the window, which is gave all of us a nice view of what was going on.  So far, no one had seen a bat, but this was a lot better than the junk reality show playing in the common room, so a small crowd had gathered on the sidewalk and grass outside his window.

“So, if he’s doing bat control, where’s the bat?  All I see is the dude and his sheet.  Weird.”

“No, no!  I see it.”

Bat hanging from a ceiling.
A bat hanging from the ceiling of a freshman dorm room.
(Artwork by Sharon Davis. Contact us for her contact info.)

A bunch of us leaned forward, some squinting, trying to catch a glimpse of the bat in the room.

“There!  There it is!  D’ya see it?”

The freshman had stopped waving his bed sheet for just a moment, long enough for the bat to settle back down in the corner of the wall.  It was big enough to make some of the girls screech and fall back behind some of the guys.  Its pursuer realized he had an audience, and turned to address us, enjoying his moment.

“It’s just a big brown bat, is all.  Dunno how it got in here, but I’m gonna try to make it fly back out the window.”

At this, some of the more squeamish girls fell back even further.

“Dude, use a racket or something!”

“Do you have one I could use?”

“No.  But, I’m sure a sheet ain’t gonna do it.”  The boy just shrugged.

“What if it bites him?” someone asked.

“It’s not gonna bite me, unless I try to hold it in my hands.  I just want to get it out of my room so it doesn’t crap all over everything.”

“Ewwwww,” someone muttered.

Someone else gasped, and the boy whirled around to recommence his herky-jerky-sheet-dance as the bat swooped around the room.  He assumed a bull-fighter’s stance when the bat flew lower through the air.

“I’m tellin’ ya, a sheet’s not gonna do a thing.  You gotta have something like a tennis racket or something,” the self-proclaimed bat control expert asserted, though no one was listening to him.  Everyone was too busy shouting out pointers to the freshman dancing in the window.

“On your left!”

“Up, up, up, up!!!”

“Don’t try to catch it, just scare it out the window.”

This last piece of advice earned the speaker a withering glare from Bat-Boy, as he was now being called.

And, then, suddenly, it was over.  The bat finally swooped out the window and zoomed far out of sight.  Everyone, except for the racket-lover, broke out into spontaneous applause and the boy took a bow, closed his window and his shutters, and everyone drifted off, talking about that night’s excitement.

Raccoons

Raccoon Control

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Mama Raccoon says I don’t know anything about the world, but in my whole life of two weeks, I’ve learned a lot about raccoon control.

Mama loves to tell us the story of how she hunted high and low for the perfect place to have her perfect little babies.  My two sisters and I are, of course, perfect.  Before Mama had us, she walked through the forest.  She found a big log that was hollow and would protect her babies from the rain, and thought that maybe that would be the perfect place.  But, there was already a little family of skunks living in there, and she almost got sprayed by Mama Skunk, so she got out of there.  Then, she found an abandoned car with soft seats filled with wonderful fluffy stuff that she thought would be perfect to keep her little babies warm.  But, there was a nest of rats living in there already, and she didn’t want her babies to get bitten by nasty little rats, so she moved on.  Then, she found a little area under some stairs right next to a big bowl of cat food, and she thought it would be a good place to have her babies, because it would be so close to food.  But, some people tromped up and down those stairs all the time, and she was scared they would get raccoon control out there and take her away.

Finally, she crawled up and up onto a person house, and looked through a little crack in the roof above a porch.  It was indoors, so it would keep her babies safe from the rain.  It was filled with fluffy insulation, so it would keep her babies warm.  It was close to a woodpile just outside, under which lived delicious little mice.  And, no people went up there all the time, so she thought she would be safe from raccoon control.  It was perfect.

So, Mama made that little crack into a big, big hole so she could get up in the roof over the porch.  She is very strong, so she just pulled back the roof and tore into it until she could safely get inside.  Then, we came along, and Mama was very happy.  Sure, we stained the fluffy insulation, and sometimes we were noisier than we should have been, but mostly it was a perfect little life.

Until, one day, a man heard us moving around up in our perfect little home.  We heard some metal scraping on the concrete below, which turned out to be a ladder.  The man poked his hand up inside.  In his hand was a bright, bright light, and I wanted to get closer.  Mama picked me up in her hands and held me close to her, and she pushed my sister and brother back behind her.  Then, she went up to sniff and growl at the light.  It went away really quickly, and we thought we were safe.  But, a few hours later, raccoon control showed up and we were taken out of our perfect place one by one.  Mama says she’ll find us another perfect place for us where we won’t bother people anymore.

Feral Cats

Feral Cat Removal

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feral cat removal

I am a self-proclaimed cat lover, even though some people really don’t understand my efforts at feral cat removal.  I don’t actually have any pets of my own since my last cat passed away a year ago, but I love animals of all kinds, especially cats.  It’s why I have undertaken feral cat removal.

Let’s be clear, feral cats are not strays.  They are not sweet domestic cats that have lost their way.  They are wild animals, wild cats, that have learned to take advantage of living near humans.  But, they need to be taken care of just like any other wild animal.

So, I set up a feeding station on my large property.  I live in a normal rural neighborhood, in the outskirts of a large city, and we have a lot of feral cats in the area.  I just flip a big plastic bin over on its side and set some water and cat food dishes inside.  Then, I set up a small camera to record the cats that come for shelter and food.  I keep track of the cats and which times they come to feed.  That’s when we set up feral cat traps.

The feral cats are removed from off of my property and taken to the local shelter, where they receive medical treatment and are spayed or neutered.  The people at the shelter know me and help me in my feral cat removal efforts.  After they determine the cats are indeed wild, and do not belong to anyone, they get fixed.  The shelter in my area allows them to be released afterwards, which means I get to enjoy watching them.  But, I know they won’t be breeding and creating an even bigger feral cat problem in my neighborhood.

I keep the camera out by the feeding station, and keep track of the animals that come to feed.  I’ve named all of the feral cats I’ve had removed and fixed, and they often bring other cats to the feeding station.  Those feral cats get removed, receive medical treatment, and are also fixed.

It’s to be expected that other wild animals are also attracted to the feeding station.  With my camera, I’ve caught skunks, raccoons and opossums who took advantage of my hospitality.  I have traps set for those wild animals, too.

My goal is not to attract more wildlife to my neighborhood, but to remove the feral cats long enough to be treated correctly.  Not all of my neighbors are happy with my efforts, but I’m hoping they’ll all notice a serious decline in the feral cat population around here.  Then, maybe they’ll understand that feral cat removal can be handled in a humane and successful way.

Snakes

Snake Removal

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Snake removal?  I thought I was just playing with the best cat toy in the world!  The day started off mundane enough.  I slept for a long time while the family got up and ran around taking care of all of their business throughout the morning.  Then, after I’d napped for a bit, I stretched, jumped down off my cat perch, and sauntered over to the bowls of cat food and water that the family keeps filled up for me.  I ate my fill, and made one of the children open the door to let me out so I could take care of my own business outside.  When I was coming back in, though, I spied the best cat toy in the entire world on the stone walkway leading towards the backdoor.  There, basking in the warm late-morning sun, was a long snake.  All thoughts of afternoon naps flew out of my head as I crouched down and prepared for my first strike.  I have to admit, I wasn’t thinking of snake removal, just of the hunt and play that lay before me.

It didn’t realize I was even there at first.  I think it was in a stupor, enjoying the feel of the sun-warmed stone walkway.  It was almost too easy, so I took a quick swipe at it.  All I wanted to do at first was get it moving, so I could play.  It moved, all right!  Every single muscle in its thick snake body was writhing and twisting.  That snake bounced from the far side of the walkway to the wall on the other side and back again before I took another jab at it.

My second jab sent it into a further frenzy, as it desperately tried to get away.  Now, it was getting interesting.  Once it realized I wasn’t going away and there was no easy escape, it tried to strike back, coming right at my face with its fangs.  I’m a cat, so I easily avoided the attack, leaping straight up in the air and flipping over backwards.  It twisted around and struck again, getting only a mouth-full of air.  This was fun!

In the midst of this play, I noticed my family out of the corner of my eye.  They’d come out to watch the event.  I worried at first that they’d be upset and try to chase me off, or get rid of the snake.  But, instead, they just watched with their camera.  They must have thought I was the best snake removal tool in their arsenal.  I am, but first I must play.

Turning my full attention back to the snake, I noticed it had made its way back to the wall and was climbing it pretty quickly.  It must have assumed it would be safe once it reached a certain distance.  True, but I didn’t intend on it making it that far.  Leaping up, I batted it back down, and it tried to bite me again as it fell.

I took a breath and circled once more, as it coiled itself up tightly into a little snake ball.  It had realized its efforts at escaping and attacking were both futile.  But, an immobile ball of snake is no fun.  And, snake removal is so much more fun when I get to toy with it for a long time.  But, it was not to be.  Before I knew it, my family shooed me off and got rid of the snake without my help.  Well, there’s always next time.