Posts Tagged ‘pests’
Missing Spoon
This is why we can’t have nice things. I was mucking manure from the sloppy mud just beyond the roof line of the overhang when Cyndie stepped out of the barn to ask if I had taken the wooden spoon.
My answer was, “What?” because every exchange between us now always starts with the second person needing questions repeated.
Why would I take the wooden spoon? We keep a cup and spoon by the water spigot in the barn for wetting down the incredibly dusty, cracked grains we put out in buckets for the horses. It was missing.
We both separately searched high and low inside the barn to no avail. What critter would abscond with a long-handled wooden spoon? There was probably a small amount of grain residue stuck to the shallow bowl, but that seems like a paltry treasure worth hauling away.
We have several burrowing pests in addition to the cats and possibly raccoons that make themselves at home in and around the barn. I don’t know if the spoon was moved outside of the barn or if it might have been stashed inside somewhere. There are plenty of nooks and crannies where it could end up out of sight.
I’d rather not start moving every item stored within to look beneath it, but I have a compelling urge not to let the thief win. I hate getting outsmarted by pestering critters.
Cyndie has already selected a replacement spoon from the kitchen. I suggested she attach a tether with an awkwardly large bauble on it, as is done for gas station bathroom keys.
Actually, I’d like to put an alligator clip and wire so we can connect it to the hot wire of our electric fence after each use. That’d send a message. I know better than to do that, though. The most likely one to receive that message would end up being my lovely wife.
Critters – 1 … Humans – 0.
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Thistle Seeds
We are at the lake! After an uneventful drive (other than the fabulous cheeseburger and fries on the road from the Lake Magnor Restaurant in Clayton) we arrived just before sunset and (oh, we also stopped in Hayward to pick up a pizza from Coop’s and some essentials from the grocery store [did someone say “ice cream?”]) we set about the routines of arrival.
“Do you have the key?” Check.
“Turn on the water.” Done.
“Can you start a fire in the fireplace?” Of course!
“I’m going to turn on the end of the football game.” Sure!
“Do you want to sleep in the loft or in Mom’s room?” Either’s fine with me.
“What the heck is in this drawer!?” Uh oh.
There was too much for it to be mouse turds. Was there a bag of wild rice up in the loft? No, that’s birdseed. Thistle, to be precise. We checked the pantry where birdseed would likely have been stored. Sure enough.
How could such a little hole lead to such a big spill?
This had to be a couple of lifetimes’ supply for the mice. I wonder how many trips up to the loft it took for the amount of seeds Cyndie found stashed up there. Being a wily sleuth, Cyndie checked a kitchen drawer that has had mouse droppings in the past.
Oh, yeah. About four-fifths thistle to one-fifth turds.
I found some old-style mouse traps in the basement mud room, and we baited them with thistle stuck on peanut butter after some intense sweeping, vacuuming, and scrubbing.
After pizza and some ice cream (not necessarily in that order) and the movie, “Conclave,” we were ready to turn in for the night. I climbed in the crisp, cool sheets and Cyndie went to get another blanket. She came back with the quilt sewed by Hays seamstresses many years ago up here when we brought my family for a Wildwood getaway.
Then she spotted mouse turds. Uh oh, again. Did they come from the quilt? She gently carried it out to inspect over a tile floor. I climbed out of the sheets and found more turds. Moving the pillows, it was obvious they hadn’t come from the quilt.
“How many mice have been sleeping in this bed?!”
Sheets were stripped and the bed was remade. I presented the option of sleeping in the loft, but we’d already settled in, and the bed would need to be remade anyway, so we soldiered on.
Cyndie eventually checked every other bed in the house, and the one we picked was the only one that had been messed up.
I checked traps this morning, and they hadn’t been touched. Birdseed is all moved to the garage and stowed in metal canisters. A load of garbage has already been dumped. Here’s hoping that’s the last of the stashes of thistle seeds.
The temperature outside right now is 2°F, and the wind chill is below zero. Only the edge of the lake has started to freeze, and the open water is steaming up thick clouds over the surface.
We are definitely up at the lake.
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Perfectly Wet
Precipitation fell slow and steady all day yesterday, giving us the perfect moisture for growing roots to soak up before the ground has frozen solid for winter.
We didn’t let the shift of clocks back to standard time influence much of our normal routine, but our later morning arrival at the barn seemed to surprise a large rodent. We had entered through the back door, and as I was moving through the darkness toward the light switches, I heard a squeak and noticed Asher hop and twist.
A flip of the switches revealed a rat out in the middle of the floor. I suspect Asher had chomped the poor thing once as it was making no effort to dash for cover. I scooped it up with the manure rake and, after one last bonk to end any suffering, offered the barn pest a hot burial in a compost pile.
Based on the vast network of tunneling occurring in the sand floor, it is easy to assume that there is probably more than just that one culprit lurking about. It is really difficult to discourage unwelcome pests when feeding horses cracked grains that result in endless spillage.
The mares aren’t very fastidious about constraining the leakage from their mouths exclusively within the edges of the mats we put out for that purpose. There are cracked oats and corn scattered far and wide in the vicinity of the barn overhang.
The barn pigeons are in their glory, and the flock has grown to city park proportions with this abundance of food. The rats are probably getting their fair share.
We are employing a variety of attempts at eradication or, at the very least, discouragement to avoid the rats reaching a population approaching the pigeon flocks. Apparently, the neighbor’s cat that regularly prowls our grounds doesn’t put much pressure on rats residing in the barn.
Walking toward the house after chores, I noticed Cyndie chose the grass over the pavement. The wet conditions have left the paddocks muddy, so striding across the grass is a way to wash some of the grime off boots before entering the house.
The moisture was so needed, so perfect; I’m of no mind to complain about a little autumn mud.
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Food Thieves
A while back I mentioned the rats weren’t doing the usual tunneling under the barn walls. Maybe that’s because they were finding everything they wanted inside.
Asher had started to show extra interest around the pallet where bags of feed get stacked. I assumed it was likely rodents were leaving their scent under there and figured Asher wasn’t hurting anything since he wasn’t digging. Although, he was spending so much time there and being so quiet about it, eventually I decided to take a look for myself.
That is a shot looking under the pallet. There is a pile of horse feed from a breached bag above. The wetness on the plank in the foreground was from Asher’s mouth. He was working hard to consume every morsel he could reach.
In pulling bags off the stack to find which one was leaking, I discovered it was three bags that had been chewed open.
I salvaged some of the feed pellets but it was hard because most of it was contaminated with shards of the plastic bags the thieves had chewed through.
I’m afraid I may have spoiled the rodents’ Thanksgiving feast by cleaning it all up.
Cyndie and I drove to her brother’s home in Edina, MN for a fabulous feast of Thanksgiving-worthy flavors. I shouldn’t need to eat again for a few days.
It is official now. Christmas decorations can legally go up and carols are allowed. I will do no shopping today as an intentional snub to the rampant over-commercialization of the holidays. I did charge a few dollars on Wednesday night to rewatch “Planes, Trains, & Automobiles” to get me in the spirit of the season, though.
It worked. Gobble, gobble, gobble.
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Mice Everywhere
Today is Cyndie’s and my 42nd wedding anniversary and our son, Julian’s 35th birthday. Other than that, it feels like a regular old Tuesday. Regular, except for the fact there are mice showing up everywhere I turn.
Sunday night I was doing dishes when a mouse walked out from beneath the stove, traveled along the baseboard and disappeared beneath the refrigerator. I put a trap along that path and it hasn’t been touched since.
Over the weekend, Cyndie called for my assistance because there were two live mice in the wash tub in the laundry room.
Yesterday, while I was eating lunch at the center island of our kitchen, I glanced over to my right and spotted a mouse walking from the dining room rug into the sunroom. Cyndie swatted and disposed of it before Asher figured out what all the fuss was about.
Obviously, our house is not sealed tight against rodent intrusion or maybe the snakes just stopped eating mice and there’s been a population explosion.
I couldn’t get away from dealing with mice when I went out to the shop to work on setting up a new water tank we bought. I needed to connect wiring for a 12V auxiliary plug on the Grizzly ATV. There had been a mouse nest under the seat long ago and back then, I disconnected wires where the insulation had been chewed. Now I needed to patch them up and reconnect them.
There was still leftover debris in the compartment under the seat so I pulled out the shop vac and turned it on. Chewed-up bits of fiberglass insulation shot out of the exhaust port of the vacuum and blew over everything in the vicinity. Somehow, an industrious mouse made its way up into the guts of the shop vac and built quite a nest.
There is probably very little insulation left in one of the walls of the shop.
Maybe for our anniversary, we could buy each other the services of a pest control company. True love.
Happy Birthday, Julian!!
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Overnight Construction
Our morning walks to the barn, by way of the woods so that Asher can get his needs met, always reveal an impressive amount of activity that occurs while we sleep.
Burrowing critters have been creating shockingly large piles of freshly mined dirt lately. They probably need to make new homes because snakes have moved into all their previous caverns.
I used to stomp these piles down, partly thinking I might drive dirt back where it came from and convince the rodents to choose a different location, but that just created large, flat dirt spots where nothing would grow.
After a moment of inspiration, I realized that kicking the pile far and wide spread the dirt thinly over the grass blades and avoided creating a big dead spot. I have mostly given up on trying to coerce the pests to go somewhere else.
I often complain about walking into the hard-to-see strands of spider web that span our pathways but there are many more webs being built that don’t cross the trails.
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It may look like this hand tool hasn’t been used in a long time, but the steel scrubby was getting attached too and it was in use to clean the waterer just a day before.
I wonder if the nighttime builders are surprised when they come out at dusk and discover all the things Cyndie and I have done around the place during the day. Like, maybe, the burrowing critters find their den caved in and decide to move from the lawn areas to a field or the woods.
Honestly, the more effort we put toward clearing spider webs and gopher mounds the more it seems to inspire pests to become more invested in rebuilding and expanding their developments.
There may be some form of reverse psychology potential awaiting me in the coexistence with the creatures that appear to work at odds with our daily activity, but that is probably overthinking.
Still, choosing to simply ignore their activity has some appeal, even if it won’t lead to making them go away.
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Teeth Marks
Who’s been chewing on our bin? We keep chicken food in a metal garbage can, but Cyndie likes to provide additional scratch grains and dried mealworms that are stored in the plastic bin shown above.
Last weekend we noticed some teeth marks along the edge of the lid. Yesterday afternoon I discovered the tenacious chewer has gotten to the second level.
I suspect it might either be the return of a certain woodchuck that Cyndie and Delilah chased out of the hay shed a couple of days ago or the frequently sighted raccoons, based on the burrowed access hole into the barn that has been dug out several times. I’ve filled it back in twice already, but this time, after I filled and packed the hole, I peed on it for good measure. I want this varmint to know who he/she is messin’ with.
If it is dug out again by this morning, I’m setting the trap.
I don’t know what I’ll do if I trap whoever it is, but will cross that bridge if/when I come to it.
Pests can be such pests.
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Mystery Culprit
Someone’s been messin’ with the coop. At first, I suspected it was possible that wind-plus-time had conspired to undo some of my handiwork, but after fixing it on Tuesday afternoon and finding it undone again yesterday when I got home from work, I now think something else is responsible.
There is open space between the walls and the roof of the chicken coop which allows for maximum ventilation. The “ceiling” of the coop is nothing but an open mesh of quarter-inch hardware cloth that allows moisture to vent out, but during windy winter storms, can also let snowflakes in.
I learned of that problem when little drifts formed inside the coop after a big snowfall. My crude fix was to stuff plastic and mesh fence material into the gap between the walls and roof. It worked perfectly well to keep snow out without completely destroying the ventilation.
After tucking the material back into place on Tuesday, it looked as good as the first time I installed it.
Less than 24-hours later, this is what Cyndie found:
Some mischief-maker, most likely a pesky bird, had already pulled some of the mesh back out again.
If I didn’t think we would get more snow this season, the material could all come out, but experience leads me to believe there will still be multiple occasions when the barrier will serve its purpose before spring arrives in full.
It is simple enough to tuck it back in place, so I will carry on this little game with the mystery culprit for now.
I won’t be surprised if the next phase of our game includes the eventual appearance of the makings for a nest. At that point, I suspect the interloper will be considering me the culprit causing mischief as I work to dismantle its construction project.
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All Quiet
All quiet in our little corner of Wobegon world this week. I was right about my suspicions that the burrowing woodchuck would show up again somewhere. Since we secured the window well, the pest spent time messing around the outside edges in search of a new way in. Just lovely.
Cyndie leaves for the lake today with friends of hers for the weekend and I will be partying at home alone with the pets. Maybe I’ll see if I can get Delilah to help me pull up the old deck boards. The new lumber has been purchased and already delivered in two stacks on the driveway.
So much for paying someone else to do the job. Think of the money we will save!
Mike has volunteered to help with installing the new boards, and we have a plan to hit that task next week. I would like to make some progress before then by pulling the old boards, if my bulging discs will allow.
That’s about all the news I have today. I’ll leave you with a scene of our skinny trees that Cyndie captured to show how the property is beginning to make the transformation toward leaflessness.
Peace!
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Cute Nuisances
They sure look cute. All three of them, according to Cyndie’s eyewitness account, peering down at her from the great oak tree right outside our front door. I only count two in this photo she sent me yesterday while I was too far away at work to do anything about them.
I suppose I could have thrown a shoe up toward their general direction.
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If there are three young ones up there, logic suggests there is at least one parent also loitering in the vicinity. I’m happy to have so much wildlife wandering around, but we’d rather not have them choosing to reside so close to our home.
The way people around here deal with this kind of thing usually involves firearms, which we are more comfortable not keeping and bearing, regardless of any amendments.
Next choice, live trap, which involves transporting to a distance from which they won’t return at a location they are welcome.
Last choice, which we used when a mama raccoon had babies in the hay shed, pay painfully large sums of our hard-earned dollars to have someone solve the problem for us.
Out of sight, out of mind, out of cash.
As of this morning, I (we) have gone with my tried and true method of making no decision yet, while allowing time to provide a shove toward some solution the universe prefers. We left home and drove up to the lake for Labor Day weekend, taking Delilah with us.
Maddie, our most recent summer animal-care provider, is stopping by to tend to chickens and feed Pequenita while we are away.
Cyndie warned her to close the coop promptly at dusk and keep an eye out for the little masked bandits.
We’ll see what time brings.
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Relative Something 