Evening star., 1950-03-26
Just Between
Ourselves
BY Philip H. Love

using my yard as playground
for the last two years are now
trying to move into my house.
Of course, my family and
have asked for it, in a way, by
feeding them bread, cereal or nuts
every morning But we had no
idea they would mistake hospi-
tality for softness. We had no
idea, either, that such cute little
animals could be so determined.
| When, for one reason or anoth-
er, we're late in putting out their
breakfast, they leap to the sill of
the dining room window and stare
at us as if to say, Aren't you
ashamed, making us wait while
you stuff yourselves with all that
nice food, and right under our
very noses, too?" Sometimes,
when my wife is in the kitchen,
they climb up the screen door to
peer at her through the glass pam
els of the inner door. That en-
barrasses her so that, as often as
not. our breakfast waits until the
squirrels have been fed.
|
One day last summer, when We
were going to have hot rolls for
dinner, my wife put a crockful of
dough on the brick wall of the
sun deck. to be raised by the
warmth of the sun.
Suddenly, there was a crash.
She ran to the sun deck to find
the crock shattered on the con-
crete floor and a very frightened
looking squirrel struggling to free
himself from the dough. When
last seen, he was scurrying up a
tree with the makings of at least
four rolls dangling from his ears.
Three nights recently, we have
been awakened by mysterious
noises in the attic. If we were
superstitious, we would have
thought the sounds were made by
spooks because we knew that
nothing human could get up
there without our knowledge.
The only entrance is through a
trapdoor in the ceiling of the hall
on the second floor, and the single
window is kept locked. Ventila-
ton is provided by several open
ings about inches square in one
Of the brick walls.
Nevertheless, something was
moving up there-something that
made scurrying noises, dragging
noises and even a few gnawing
noises. The last led us to suspect
a rat.
The first two nights, the sounds
stopped the moment we snapped
on light. We listened for q
while and, hearing nothing more,
went back to sleep.
The third night, the noises
continued in spite of repeated
clicking of the light-switch, and
three nasty growls from our dog
Butch, who dislikes strangs
sounds in the middle of the night.
were required to produce silence
overhead. !. realized then that,
like it or not, I'd have to tell our
guest right to his teeth, so to
speak, that he wasn't welcome.
X X X
The next day. I fetched a lad
der from the cellar and, fiashlight
in hand, climbed to the trapdoor.
Cautiously. I pushed up the
trapdoor and slid it to one side.
Then I slowly raised my head
through the opening and, flashing
the light in all directions, looked
around.
There was no evidence of gnaw-
ing, so far as could discover, but
insulation had been torn from be-
tween the floor joists and piled
at the far end of the attic, be-
nsath the ventilation openings.
AS I stared at the insulation,
something darkened one of the
ventilators. It started to come
through the opening, then saw mo
and drew back. But 1t didn't
run away. 1t clung to the edge
of the ventilator and peered in at
me.
1t was squirrel. of course. We
gazed at each other for several
minutes-until, finally, I yelled,
"Shoo! Shoo" and it disap-
peared. got a piece of screen
from the cellar and covered the
openings, using several boards to
hold it in place. Then I gathered
up the insulation, which the
squirrel had been using as a nest,
and restored it to its proper place.
The next day, I happened to
glance at the house next door just
as a squirrel-the same one, I'll
h,f L