The Winchester Sun: Winchester, KY

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Turn about is fair play: Squirrels, homeowners drive each other nuts
The View from the Hill
By Jean Brody
March 2, 2010

You know that moment just before finally falling asleep? We are all aware of exactly how it feels when we step over into nothingness and that is precisely where I was when, all of a sudden, there was this loud “WHACK.”

My eyelids flew open, then “SLAM,” “THUD.” Gene, lying in bed next to me and almost stone deaf, stirred. “What was that?” Surprised that he heard the noise, I said, to be funny, I guess, “Well, we know it isn’t exploding eggs,” then, “I don’t know what it was.” again, a louder noise, “THUD” and it seemed to be coming from right over our head. Even in my near-sleep haze, it dawned on me that I probably did know what the noises were. Of course! For the umpteenth winter we have shared our home with resident squirrels.

The mystery solved, I just laid there and listened and I swear to you, this is what I heard in the attic right above our head: “Bubba, do you know what time it is? You come in here, banging stuff around like some low class rodent when you know very well that Jean and Gene are trying to sleep. You want to get us kicked outta’ here in the dead of winter?”

“Oh, get off my back, Ernestine! Can I help it if that big jump from the tree to the roof makes noise when I land? Just you be glad I came home at all.” My mouth literally flew open at his uncouthness. “That’s just great,” muttered to Gene. “We not only have a rude bunch, not even caring what time it is when they do come home, but then to yell at each other and throw stuff around the rest of the night. Well, Gene, we have to get them out of our attic!”

I no sooner said this when Ernestine must’ve just lost it and who could blame her — I guess she picked up a loose board or whatever and threw it at ole Bubba. There was a crash and you never heard such screaming. They started running back and forth from one side of the attic to the other, all the time calling each other horrible names (don’t ask me how I know this — it’s all in the voice tone).

“OK, that does it,” I announced to Gene, who, with his convenient loss of hearing problem, had already turned over in bed and was fast asleep. I knew it was up to me, as usual. So the minute Bubba let loose with more terrible squirrel language, well, do you remember when Gene bought me that big walking stick? Well, it was propped up in the corner so, baby, I grabbed that stick and proceeded to beat the living crap out of my bedroom ceiling. It made a terrible racket and I added a few of my stress reducing words to it.

Finally, so tired I could barely breathe, I dropped the stick and collapsed on the bed. Do you know, there was dead silence in that attic? I mean, not one more move. Either I scared Bubba and Ernestine flat to death or they vacated the premises, figuring it was safer out in the cold. Either way, it’s been three days and nights and not a peep (or whatever squirrels do) out of them.

You know, I don’t have a clue on how they get in there. I do know they jump huge distances out of a tree down and onto the roof. THAT is the big “WHACK” noise I hear when they decide to turn in for the night. Then they must go to their secret entrance inside the attic and just come on in.

Now, I am a kind soul with unlimited tolerance for animals so I don’t mind their being there out of the cold. It’s their rudeness I don’t like. I mean, if someone gave me free room and board, I would certainly try to be a thoughtful tenant, wouldn’t you? And you know what else? I can just imagine the mess they’ve made up there.

Oh my, life is just fraught with difficult problems. The view from the hill is wondrous anyway.

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