When I hear about one hardship people are enduring nowadays, the tedium of staying at home, I'm grateful, once again, that we live out in the country. With miles of vibrant green foliage around us and abundant wildlife, there's rarely an opportunity to be bored here.
The Carolina Wrens fledged out of their creel on the front porch last week. We saw the small creatures first at twilight and wondered how they would fare in the frigid night air, but the next morning they reemerged from the basket, warm and ready to try out their wings. The big world seemed a little overwhelming for two of them, who hid at first behind the woodpile. Before long, their parents enticed them out with fat, juicy worms, and they flew away. They were back tonight just before sunset, three nights after we first saw them. Their flights are more confident, and there are fewer crash landings than there were on day one. Three fledglings tucked into the basket, and the fourth one lingered, loathe to get into her pajamas. Finally, sleepy-eyed, she tucked into the creel with her siblings. We wish them sweet dreams.
We had another visitor the night before, an unexpected one. Just before retiring for the evening, I sleepily walked into the kitchen and flipped on the light. A small furry creature was watching me from his perch on the handle of the oven door. Suddenly I was wide awake. The animal before me was adorable, with big eyes and a fluffy tail. He was too cute to be a rat, but what was I looking at? We stared at each other for a long moment, each of us contemplating what we should do. I didn't want to leave the room and allow him to escape. Don was already in bed, and I thought I could handle this one on my own. I've had better ideas.
My thick oven mitts were within reach, so I put on the gloves and made a quick grab at my new acquaintance. I almost had him when he squirted out of my grasp and headed for the dining room, hiding under the hutch. I nudged him out with my tripod, and he ran across the room, scrambled up the curtains, then spread out his legs and flung himself off, soaring, frisbee style, down to the easy chair. That's when I realized what he was--a flying squirrel. He looked more adept gliding than he did running while making his escape. Either way, I was no match for him.
The pursuit wasn't going as I had planned. I opened three doors wide and hoped the squirrel would find his way out and that no other intruders would come in. Instead, he ran down the hall and hid under a bedroom dresser. That's when I decided to call a truce. I figured he'd stay there for the night and we could regroup in the morning. Or so I thought.
Don was still awake when I climbed into bed. "Are you ok?" he asked. "Pretty much," I replied. "Ok, what's wrong?" he asked, reading my mind. I told him about the squirrel, and we laughed together before trying to sleep.
A clattering sound from the laundry room jerked me out of my half-sleep. "The mousetrap!" I thought. Sure enough, the squirrel had found the peanut butter-baited trap, succumbed to the temptation, and was limping around with a mousetrap hanging on to the side of a back foot. That was just enough of a handicap to allow Don and me to corral the poor thing, pick him up, take him outside, and free him from the trap. He didn't look much worse for the wear as he ran away.
We have no idea how he got into the house, but we're hoping that the experience was unpleasant enough that he won't try it again. Just as a precaution, though, I'm ordering a live animal trap.
When Don left for work, he mumbled something about getting new locks for the doors. I think I've talked him out of it.
Linking to Wild Bird Wednesday
