In My Own Backyard . . . And Front . . . And Side, Part 5

Some of my readers are clamoring for more on squirrels. Okay, one reader. So here are Parts 5 and 6.

I keep making the point that squirrels are rodents, as if that’s a bad thing. It may or may not be, and I suppose which it is depends on whether you’re a person or a rodent.

After all, the squirrels can’t help it. Rodentia they are, but did you know that 40% of this earth’s mammals are also rodents? Which is something I would never have guessed and which troubles me a little. Rodents include gerbils, hamsters, rats, guinea pigs (your pets perhaps?), mice, gophers, beavers, porcupines, ground hogs, prairie dogs, and others. In fact, 2270 species of rodents inhabit the planet.

So what’s the big deal? you ask. Well, my experience, limited though it may be, tells me I do not want rodents living with me, like in my house, or even very close to me, like so they could get in my house.

My experience:

When our son Richard was a boy he had a hamster, and, of course, the hamster got out of its cage. We searched the house for, it seems now, several days. Finally found him, cute little thing, under the heat register in the master bedroom. That would be my bedroom and Wayne’s. And that furnace shaft needed some cleaning, you can bet.

We also dealt with gophers, those relentless digger-uppers of our lawn and garden and pasture. Thank goodness there are no laws against killing them. Anyone who has suffered through a gopher attack phase in garden or lawn is sure to agree with me there.

Also, with a pasture for those 15 years on Canyon Hill, we saw a mouse or two in the house. Finding their droppings in the niche where my sewing machine resided was stunning and made me feel dirty. I had sat down to make a pair of shorts for one of my kids, because I thought the place was mine, you know. Such an experience leaves you reticent to go into certain rooms, keeps you looking over your shoulder, so to speak, ever fearful you will find what you hope not to find.

Another time a mouse built its nest at the back of the glove compartment of my car, which I always parked in the garage. And yes, I drove the car daily, but a mouse can build a nest overnight, apparently.

It was a big car with a deep glove compartment. I could hear something in the innards of the car when I would go somewhere. I finally figured out where it must be. But what? I thought it might be a mouse but kept telling myself “no way, impossible.” Finding out—it jumped out when I got up my guts and opened the glove compartment—was traumatizing for me and eventually fatal for the mouse. Thank goodness for that. But it left me shaken. I think I got rid of the car not long after.