We live in an old farmhouse, and somewhere listed in our deed I’m sure to find a sentence indicating that our space will be shared with wildlife at one point or another. Wildlife can be loosely defined as any undomesticated animal, right? No, I’m not talking about my family. 

I understand that mice are an issue. It just isn’t possible to insulate this house enough to stop them from moving in every fall. I have been here long enough to know when to expect them and how to stop the pitter-patter of little feet. I don’t use poison because I don’t want to break the food chain. Lately, we’ve been hearing big noises in the basement, right below my office. Something has made itself quite at home. 

Call a professional, you say? That won’t happen. Where is the challenge in having an experienced person with the right tools come into our house to rid us of potential vermin? My husband considers it a contest. At times our basement takes on the look of a Rube Goldberg machine. 

It’s an odd phenomenon, having something unwelcome living in our home. Not to revel in someone else’s misery, when it comes to animal home invasions, there is always someone who has had it worse. 

I’ve never had a bird fly into my house or discovered an exterior wall is a home for wasps. I’ve never had a raccoon come inside and eat my goldfish. I’ve never had a bear break, enter and stick around to eat a pie. I’ve never had a goose fly down my chimney and die in my home. I’ve never had a buck leap through my window and wander around my house. Yes, those events all happened to other people. Those stories are just a few local ones. There is a point when I start to appreciate the mice. 

Thankfully we don’t live in an area where I can find an alligator in a bathtub or a poisonous snake in a crib. As for our invader that goes bump in the night? It’s most likely a squirrel. Our insulation must taste like candy. My husband is practicing the find-a-hole and fill-a-hole technique. It’s going to be a long winter. A friend told me the only way a deer should be in a house is in a stew. I don’t even eat meat, and I agree. Cheers.