I live a simple life. Currently I am constructing a sort of in-law apartment, a bedroom/office studio of maybe 600 sf, and it suits me. After months on the AT, it feels downright roomy, and as much as I hate taping drywall, the job will go quickly once begun and then I can hang the few pieces of art I possess. It is currently sheet rocked, insulated, dry, and heated. Comfy. There are big plans for the winter, too. I’ll put in a bathroom (already underway) and maybe a hardwood floor. I like it.
When I moved in, though, I was unaware that there was a previous tenant.
I woke in the middle of the night to a rustling sound. I figured it was just a mouse and that I’d evict him the first chance I got, but in the morning I discovered that a Home Depot contractor grade garbage bag had been shredded and some of the contents spread around in an untidy circle. It wasn’t a mouse. Mice can gnaw like all get out, but it didn’t seem likely one could rip a contractor grade bag wide open. Had it happened elsewhere in the house, the blame would have fallen on one of the dogs. One of them would have been nicely framed, like the protagonist in a film noir. It was a bigger critter, then. I cleaned up and put the bag out with the trash.
The next night I was again awoken by sounds. First, there was some scuttling in the ceiling, up in the attic, and eventually it worked it’s way down into the room. It was furtive and subtle, a little scratching, a little rustle of cardboard where I had stacked some boxes, then quiet. This was about 2 am. More clues. My little intruder was nocturnal.
In the morning, the garbage had been disturbed, but not gutted—I’d left no scraps of anything edible and finding nothing to eat, the prowler had moved on without destroying the bag. If I didn’t trap him and toss him out, I decided, he’d be making nightly forays, making a mess of things, and I’d never get a full night’s sleep. It was a simple matter. I’d leave something edible in the same place for a couple of nights—lull him into carelessness--and then bait a Have-A-Hart trap with the same snack. I put the plan in motion that night as I was writing and eating a peanut butter sandwich. I placed half of my sandwich under the unconnected wood stove. Eventually I will get around to installing the stove and will use it, but for the time being it is cold and sits there like an iron end table. Good place for a trap.
That night: silence.
In the morning the sandwich was gone without a trace. Not a crumb remained. The next night I again placed half of my peanut butter sandwich, on a paper towel, under the stove. I fell asleep and was not disturbed by any sound. So far as I could tell, absolutely nothing had happened. Yet, in the morning when I climbed out of bed the sandwich (and the paper towel) were gone. I assume he ate the sandwich and took the paper towel for insulation. What is he? My guess is either a flying squirrel or a rat. Both are nocturnal, and both are smart.
Two more nights. Same process. Same result. He was primed to be trapped!
I thought about this. What sort of trap would be easiest? The Have-A-Hart cage was clunky. I could just set up a five gallon bucket with a tippy lid and catch him that way, but if it is a flying squirrel he’d beat the bucket like a street drummer. I’d give it some more thought. No need to rush these things. What was my actual complaint with this animal, anyway? My major concerns were that he’d rifle through my drawers, chew my books and art supplies, and urinate and defecate all over the place like a puppy not housebroken. I also worried that he’d continue to do nightly, noisy reconnoiters and disturb my sleep. He’d done neither though, on the nights I left food out, so there was no need to rush.
As a youth one of my favorite books (one I read again and again over the years) was an anthology of short stories edited by Ray Bradbury in 1952 titled Timeless Stories for Today and Tomorrow. It is a collection of fantasy/horror stories that appeared in all manner of magazines, and the stories run, generally, toward the type that would later inspire Rod Serling to create The Twilight Zone. The writers were no slouches, either, and included John Steinbeck, Franz Kafka, John Cheever, and E.B. White. Timeless Stories for Today and Tomorrow is still available from used book sellers on Amazon.
My favorite story in the anthology was by Henry Kuttner, a little remembered but hugely influential fantasy writer in the 40s, called “Housing Problem”. Richard Matheson dedicated his 1954 novel I Am Legend to Kuttner. Marion Zimmer Bradley, dedicated her novel The Bloody Sun, to him, also. If these names mean nothing to you, that’s okay, and you’ll just have to trust me. These are heavyweights.
The plot of “Housing Problem” is simple. A boarder moves into a house and brings with him a large cage, like a bird cage, that he always keeps covered. He is very private and secretive, and he always has incredible luck. The landlady is the curious type, so one day while the boarder is away she sneaks into his room and uncovers the cage. In the cage is a perfect tiny house. A nice lawn. Very clean and well kept. While she is gawking at the house, trying to see in the little windows, all of the shades in the tiny home are suddenly pulled down, one after another. She covers the cage and leaves.
The next day she is accosted by the boarder and he is distraught. What have you done? You disturbed them and now they have moved out! With the loss of my tenants, I will have no luck. None. My luck will return to normal. 50/50. It took years to build the little house, he tells her, and then more years still to obtain quality tenants.
They pay their rent, you see, in luck.
For a while, he has terrible luck. Nothing seems to go right, and then he gets what can only be described as messy luck. A truck swerves in time to not hit him, but careens through a puddle and drenches him in dirty water. He slips and falls in what could well have been a fatal drop, but escapes with only a broken arm. Peeking into the cage, the landlady finds that the tiny house is again occupied, but the place is a dump. There is garbage overflowing the little trash cans and laundry is strung between the columns on the front porch. The lawn is overgrown. There are toys and empty cans in the yard.
Because she was a busy-body, she drove off the quality tenants, and some decidedly second tier tenants moved in. The best they could do for rent was luck, but sloppy luck.
All of this came back to me while I was watching Youtube golf one night. What was my complaint with the critter in the ceiling, anyway? When I did my part and paid the peanut butter sandwich tax, he was dead quiet and even cleaned up after himself. I find no droppings anywhere—not on the floor, not in the drawers—and I have found nothing that has been gnawed on. For the price of half of my nightly peanut butter sandwich, there is no problem at all.
So I pay the tax and let things be. It’s sort of a protection racket, run by a rodent. I’ve been doing this, each evening, for about two months now. I still have not caught even a glimpse of the little gangster who is putting the arm on me.
I’ve considered setting up my game camera under the stove to catch him in the act, but have tentatively decided that I’d rather not know, because I would likely be judgmental. If he is a flying squirrel (cute beyond words, with huge black eyes like they were painted on black velvet in East LA) I’d feel one way, but if he is a rat, with beady little eyes and a slinky long tail, I’d feel another. I don’t need to know. My prejudices have no import as to how this eventually plays out. A flying squirrel could be a total dick and a rat might be quiet and cooperative. My opinion of either doesn’t matter.
Humans usually go immediately to war, particularly with nature, so my first inclination was to reach for a trap—a “humane” trap to relocate the animal to a cold and unfamiliar place, or a trap that would end the little life with a final snap, but my first inclinations are rarely the voices of my better angels. I could rationalize offing the animal, no question. What’s the life of a little animal worth, anyway? After all, there is an entire industry that has sprung up around Pest Removal. Is everyone else wrong? Aren’t rodents the enemy?
It doesn’t matter. We (for the time being, anyway) have reached a sort of detente. It is a simple, unspoken, but seemingly understood, agreement. He needs food and shelter for the winter and I can provide both so long as he refrains from being a pain in the ass. I don’t know how he knows this (we have never discussed the terms) but he does. To date, for the daily price of a slice of bread smeared with peanut butter and folded in half, he remains, as Elmer would say, “Bewwy bewwy quiet.” If, in the future, he moves in with his family and starts doing wind sprints on the closet poles? Well, then we will have to renegotiate. I don’t know the future. Que sera sera.
For the time being though, this works.
I’m lucky enough.
Can’t wait to hear more about this little tenant you have. Don’t forget to put out drinking water in the meantime! 🤗