The last several days, I've heard a rustle in the ceiling above the closet in my bedroom. I wasn't sure whether there was a squirrel in my ceiling again, liked what happened about eight years ago on the other side of the bedroom, when they ate several holes through my ceiling, or whether the squirrel was under the protective eave just on the exterior side of the closet. The squirrels use the gutter to access the space under the eave, and the sound from the gutter transmits into the house.
Last night, while it was raining heavily, about 1 a.m., I heard the rustle again. I banged on the ceiling, and opened the closet.
Chaos. The squirrel was indeed in the ceiling. It had eaten two ventilation holes through the ceiling right above my clothes. There was dust, insulation, leaves, and twigs all over my clothes.
Enraged, I started banging on and shouting at the ceiling. The rustle went silent.
I ran outside, onto my back porch, and looked up at the eave. Sure enough, in the uncertain light and protected from the heavy rain, there sat a concerned-looking squirrel. I ran downstairs and grabbed some pebbles from the graveled driveway. Then I returned to the porch, ready to throw stones at my house at 1 a.m. on a rainy night, and hopefully clobber the squirrel.
The first two stones were wide-of-the-mark. Indeed, the squirrel approached each strike, just to investigate. I was grimacing at the squirrel, jumping up and down and and making menacing noises, and basically playing the role of the angry, hairless ape.
Surprisingly, the squirrel got the message after the third stone. It left the protective cover of the eave, and ran away into the rainy night.
I hope that squirrel stays away. I'll have to clean my clothes and closet, and repair the ceiling later. For now, I basically smell like wood. Eau d'squirrel, I guess.
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