This is war. For the last four years, I have maintained an uneasy truce with gray squirrels. We had an understanding. They could have all the seed that fell on the ground. They could climb on the bird feeders, and try to defeat my barriers, as long as they did not damage them. We agreed, if they behaved reasonably well, my Havahart traps would remain in the garage.
As so often happens, wars start in the strangest of ways. This war began when some rowdy chipmunks moved in, uninvited. Along the entire roof of my house, there is an inaccessible airspace between the ceiling and the shingles. Inaccessible to me, not inaccessible to chipmunks. All winter, they’ve been scurrying around up there. More recently, they’ve been squealing at each other in a playful game of non-stop tag.
We called in professional help. Unfortunately, the quoted price for peace and quiet exceeded the total cost of 40 Havahart traps. I resolved to trap them out myself. I bought one new chipmunk trap, and borrowed another from the neighbors. That’s when everything went wrong.
First, squirrels come out to feed every day. Chipmunks don’t. I’m convinced those chipmunks must have stashed a lot of food in my ceiling, because they can go several days before one deigns to step into the yard.
Second, last autumn produced one of the biggest nut crops in memory. You may remember that natural food was so plentiful that birds weren’t bothering to visit bird feeders. The squirrel and chipmunk population exploded.
Third, chipmunks tunnel under the snow. Squirrels don’t. Even when the chipmunks come out of my ceiling, they just scurry around under the snow. There are no obvious paths upon which I can set a trap. Chipmunks are particularly wary. While squirrels traipse all over the yard, chipmunks typically creep along walls and bushes, sticking close to cover. Right now, their cover is covered … by about 18 feet of snow.
Fourth, squirrels are having no trouble squeezing into the chipmunk traps. Last weekend, there were 12 squirrels in my backyard, and another six in the front. Dozens more lined the road. Every time I set the trap for chipmunks, I catch a squirrel. Not that the squirrels don’t deserve trapping. They have already knocked down two thistle feeders and ripped open a suet feeder, just in the last week. Clearly, I would have to relocate a few squirrels before I could begin conquering the chipmunks.
How bad is it? It took me an entire day to write this tirade. Every hundred words or so, I’ve had to drive another squirrel two miles to the forest. I understand that this distance may not be far enough. Legend has it that they can find their way back over much longer distances. Perhaps so, but they’ll have to cross the nesting territory of at least two pairs of barred owls, so I’ll leave it up to them if they want to try it. Besides, they don’t have to stay away permanently. They just have to stay away long enough for me to silence the chipmunks.
Possibly, I’m doomed. Chipmunks spent all of last autumn stashing food, and a single chipmunk can gather over 150 acorns per day. Who knows how much grub is cached in my ceiling? The typical non-attic-dwelling chipmunk digs a burrow in the ground up to three feet deep, and survives the winter by slowing its activity to conserve heat. They could wait me out. Apparently, the snow isn’t going anywhere. Besides, the chipmunks I see in the yard this winter may not be the same ones I hear in my attic. I could trap the wrong chipmunks. Chipmunks can raise two broods per year, each brood consisting of 4-5 babies. They may be up there in the ceiling right now, making more chipmunks.
Alas, I must defeat an army of squirrels before I can capture a single chipmunk. The battle rages on. After weeks of trying, one squirrel figured out how to reach the suet tucked under a protective dome. He would slide down the dome, tilting it slightly in the process, and grab the suet cage by one paw as he hurtled past. Eventually, I caught him and took him to the forest. But squirrels learn from each other. Others had watched him. Soon, several of the remaining squirrels could pull off the same trick.
Backyard bird-feeding was supposed to be a tranquil, relaxing way to enjoy nature. Instead, I’m at war.
Bob Duchesne serves as vice president of Maine Audubon’s Penobscot Valley Chapter. He developed the Maine Birding Trail, with information at mainebirdingtrail.com. He can be reached at duchesne@midmaine.com.
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