I thought it was bats making those sounds in our attic...
I was in our upstairs computer room when I heard some strange noises coming from the attic. We have a very, very, very old house so I just figured some bats had taken up lodging in the attic. No big deal as long as I didn't have to go up and live with them or they didn't come down to live with me.
The noises continued for several nights so I thought I'd check the attic during the day when bats slept. The only problem with our very, very, very old house is that the only way into the attic is up through a very small door in the ceiling of my husband's closet. Who thought of that genius bit of architecture? Well, to be fair, our house was supposed to have been part of the Underground Railroad before the Civil War. So, having an obscure entrance into the attic--where the slaves were reportedly hidden--made some sense.
Any ways, I decided to get a chair and a flood spotlight then headed for the attic entrance all the way envisioning that Alfred Hitchcock movie "The Birds" or the old Dracula movies I'd grown up with. Scenes of flying bats completely encircling me were giving me second thoughts about my adventure. I'm not afraid of bats, or spiders, or snakes, I just don't like to get surprised by them.
I cracked the attic door open carefully and slowly then shone the spotlight half expecting to be attacked by bats. Before I knew it I had half my body up through the door shining the light into the far corners of the attic. I was almost disappointed when I didn't see any bats because I knew there was something hanging out in our attic making strange noises. I got myself out of the small attic door and went on with my chores for the day.
That night the strange attic noises returned. Though I wanted to know what was making the noises, I did not want to know badly enough to confront whatever it was while it was making those noises.
The next morning I opened the door to our guest bedroom and it looked like a bear had trashed the room. My beautiful room was unrecognizable: wallpaper was torn off the walls, the bedspread was shredded, curtains were off the rods, knick knacks were shattered and laying on the floor and the worst part--the whole room had been used for a toilet. Yes, a toilet!
What did this? It sure wasn't bats. Then I looked up and saw a new entrance into the attic, a large hole in the ceiling. Obvioulsy, a bear had not been living in my attic--I knew I was looking at a raccoon party gone way wrong.
After the shock wore off I called my insurance agent and he said to leave the room as it was until he could get there--in about 2 weeks! Sure, I'll just leave that raccoon "stuff" in the room for 2 weeks undisturbed. No problem! What kind of insurance agent says that? Maybe one on Candid Camera.
Next I called an exterminator who live traps raccoons, skunks, etc. Since I found the raccoon's exit, a huge hole in my window screen, he suggested I go up into the attic and find where they were getting in so I could board it up. Right. I am going up into a raccoon urine soaked hole in my ceiling (that's evidently how the ceiling plaster gave way was from the "wetness") with a flashlight, boards, nails a hammer, etc. to board up the holes in an effort to keep the raccoons out of my attic.
Of course, my husband was out of state for work as was the norm any time there is a "situation" on the farm. And it's not something you really want to call a friend or neighbor either to ask them to do: "Hey, could you come over and go up into my attic in the 1,000 degree heat and board up holes in my roof vents. Oh, did I mention you would first have to travel through a raccoon urine soaked hole in my ceiling to get to the attic?" Not many volunteers for that job.
So I gathered all my supplies,climbed the ladder through the urine soaked hole and found the raccoons had actually taken the roof vent covers off and just walked right into the attic. Wonderful, creative little creatures, raccoons. I shone the floodlight all through the attic to make sure I wasn't boarding up raccoons and did not see even 1 raccoon or, any bats for that matter.
After what seemed like I'd spent days in a dark, cobweb laden sauna that smelled like raccoon pee, I came back down the ladder and covered the ceiling hole with boards. Mission accomplished. I had won: humans 1, raccoons 0. Hmm...is trashing a room really a 0? It is when I'm keeping score.
I took pictures of the room for the insurance agent, who couldn't get there for 2 weeks, then started the disgusting job of cleaning up the raccoon toilet, once known as my beautiful guest bedroom. I never gagged so much in one day. I felt filthy even though I wore gloves, a long sleeved shirt and pants in the 1,000 degree heat. After hours and hours of cleaning and sorting and gagging I was as done as I could be. I took a shower for what seemed like hours but never really felt clean. I wondered if I'd ever feel clean again and if my sinuses would be permanently burned with the fumes of the raccoon urine I had inhaled.
That night I sat in my computer room expecting silence from the attic above...but the strange noises I'd heard before were now amplified and frantic. I had trapped the raccoons in the attic! Somehow I had not seen them by the light of the spotlight. They were not only trapped but obviously very, very ticked off. They wanted out but I wasn't about to go up in the attic and let them out. I prayed the boards covering the urine soaked hole in the ceiling would hold for the night. I had just finished cleaning the room that very day, the last thing I wanted to do was have those very, very, very unhappy raccoons get back into that room to trash it again.
I had nightmares about rabid raccoons breaking through the boards then coming to find me in my bedroom. In my dreams I was surrounded by hundreds of raccoons chanting, "Board her up in the attic in the 1,000 degree heat, see how she likes it. Better yet, board us into the attic with her and see who comes out still breathing."
First daylight I went into the raccoon room (what I now called it), climbed the ladder, took the boards off, put the upper part of my body through the you know what hole, and set a live trap in the attic. I put the boards back covering the hole and went on with my day.
That night the frantic and amplified raccoon noises continued but I was so tired from not sleeping the night before I fell right to sleep. Yay, thank You, Lord, no rabid raccoon dreams...
The next morning I slowly took the boards covering the ceiling hole off, shone my spotlight on the live trap and saw the biggest raccoon in the history of the world caught in the trap. He was a monster, very hungry (the apple I'd set in the trap to attract him hardly curbed his appetite) and not in the least bit amused.
What I hadn't planned for was how I was going to get the raccoon and trap out of the attic and through the ceiling hole without suffering major bodily harm. You see, to get the trap out I had to stand on the ladder and tip the trap towards me within inches of my face, all the while being threatened by a large, hungry, not amused raccoon who, in his mind, was fighting for his life. Visions of a face transplant played too vividly through my mind.
As I tipped the trap towards me, the raccoon started snarling, trying to bite me through the cage and just generally trying to kill me. Stay calm, girl...I prayed very, very, very hard.
I finally got trap and raccoon safely out of the hole, put the snarling creature (and trap) in my car and relocated my big furry friend 20 miles away. Yay! humans 2, raccoons 1 (for being so menacing).
Peace, finally peace! My raccoon ordeal was over. Until that night--in the computer room--the frantic amplified noises again. Big, angry raccoon wasn't living alone. He had a friend. A hungry very, very, very ticked off not amused friend.
I hadn't reset the live trap after relocating the first raccoon, night time was not the time to do that. So I waited till the next day and reset the trap. Rabid raccoon nightmares. No sleep again. Lots of praying!
Up the ladder I went the next morning and yes there he/she was, another very angry, very hungry, not amused very large raccoon in the live trap.
Face transplant thoughts, prayers, tip the trap towards my face, snarling, yay he's out, load him up in the car, drive 20 miles, set him free. Yay, humans 3, menacing raccoons 2-1/2 (maybe)? Hey, I've got to at least feel like I won don't I?
This time I reset the trap. No amplified noises in the attic that night. No nightmares. No menacing raccoon in the trap the next morning. Yay God! We did it!
And, when all was said and done, I guess I did end up with an easier access to my attic...
Shepherdess Blog
Copyright 2013 Jackie Deems
I was in our upstairs computer room when I heard some strange noises coming from the attic. We have a very, very, very old house so I just figured some bats had taken up lodging in the attic. No big deal as long as I didn't have to go up and live with them or they didn't come down to live with me.
The noises continued for several nights so I thought I'd check the attic during the day when bats slept. The only problem with our very, very, very old house is that the only way into the attic is up through a very small door in the ceiling of my husband's closet. Who thought of that genius bit of architecture? Well, to be fair, our house was supposed to have been part of the Underground Railroad before the Civil War. So, having an obscure entrance into the attic--where the slaves were reportedly hidden--made some sense.
Any ways, I decided to get a chair and a flood spotlight then headed for the attic entrance all the way envisioning that Alfred Hitchcock movie "The Birds" or the old Dracula movies I'd grown up with. Scenes of flying bats completely encircling me were giving me second thoughts about my adventure. I'm not afraid of bats, or spiders, or snakes, I just don't like to get surprised by them.
I cracked the attic door open carefully and slowly then shone the spotlight half expecting to be attacked by bats. Before I knew it I had half my body up through the door shining the light into the far corners of the attic. I was almost disappointed when I didn't see any bats because I knew there was something hanging out in our attic making strange noises. I got myself out of the small attic door and went on with my chores for the day.
That night the strange attic noises returned. Though I wanted to know what was making the noises, I did not want to know badly enough to confront whatever it was while it was making those noises.
The next morning I opened the door to our guest bedroom and it looked like a bear had trashed the room. My beautiful room was unrecognizable: wallpaper was torn off the walls, the bedspread was shredded, curtains were off the rods, knick knacks were shattered and laying on the floor and the worst part--the whole room had been used for a toilet. Yes, a toilet!
What did this? It sure wasn't bats. Then I looked up and saw a new entrance into the attic, a large hole in the ceiling. Obvioulsy, a bear had not been living in my attic--I knew I was looking at a raccoon party gone way wrong.
After the shock wore off I called my insurance agent and he said to leave the room as it was until he could get there--in about 2 weeks! Sure, I'll just leave that raccoon "stuff" in the room for 2 weeks undisturbed. No problem! What kind of insurance agent says that? Maybe one on Candid Camera.
Next I called an exterminator who live traps raccoons, skunks, etc. Since I found the raccoon's exit, a huge hole in my window screen, he suggested I go up into the attic and find where they were getting in so I could board it up. Right. I am going up into a raccoon urine soaked hole in my ceiling (that's evidently how the ceiling plaster gave way was from the "wetness") with a flashlight, boards, nails a hammer, etc. to board up the holes in an effort to keep the raccoons out of my attic.
Of course, my husband was out of state for work as was the norm any time there is a "situation" on the farm. And it's not something you really want to call a friend or neighbor either to ask them to do: "Hey, could you come over and go up into my attic in the 1,000 degree heat and board up holes in my roof vents. Oh, did I mention you would first have to travel through a raccoon urine soaked hole in my ceiling to get to the attic?" Not many volunteers for that job.
So I gathered all my supplies,climbed the ladder through the urine soaked hole and found the raccoons had actually taken the roof vent covers off and just walked right into the attic. Wonderful, creative little creatures, raccoons. I shone the floodlight all through the attic to make sure I wasn't boarding up raccoons and did not see even 1 raccoon or, any bats for that matter.
After what seemed like I'd spent days in a dark, cobweb laden sauna that smelled like raccoon pee, I came back down the ladder and covered the ceiling hole with boards. Mission accomplished. I had won: humans 1, raccoons 0. Hmm...is trashing a room really a 0? It is when I'm keeping score.
I took pictures of the room for the insurance agent, who couldn't get there for 2 weeks, then started the disgusting job of cleaning up the raccoon toilet, once known as my beautiful guest bedroom. I never gagged so much in one day. I felt filthy even though I wore gloves, a long sleeved shirt and pants in the 1,000 degree heat. After hours and hours of cleaning and sorting and gagging I was as done as I could be. I took a shower for what seemed like hours but never really felt clean. I wondered if I'd ever feel clean again and if my sinuses would be permanently burned with the fumes of the raccoon urine I had inhaled.
That night I sat in my computer room expecting silence from the attic above...but the strange noises I'd heard before were now amplified and frantic. I had trapped the raccoons in the attic! Somehow I had not seen them by the light of the spotlight. They were not only trapped but obviously very, very ticked off. They wanted out but I wasn't about to go up in the attic and let them out. I prayed the boards covering the urine soaked hole in the ceiling would hold for the night. I had just finished cleaning the room that very day, the last thing I wanted to do was have those very, very, very unhappy raccoons get back into that room to trash it again.
I had nightmares about rabid raccoons breaking through the boards then coming to find me in my bedroom. In my dreams I was surrounded by hundreds of raccoons chanting, "Board her up in the attic in the 1,000 degree heat, see how she likes it. Better yet, board us into the attic with her and see who comes out still breathing."
First daylight I went into the raccoon room (what I now called it), climbed the ladder, took the boards off, put the upper part of my body through the you know what hole, and set a live trap in the attic. I put the boards back covering the hole and went on with my day.
That night the frantic and amplified raccoon noises continued but I was so tired from not sleeping the night before I fell right to sleep. Yay, thank You, Lord, no rabid raccoon dreams...
The next morning I slowly took the boards covering the ceiling hole off, shone my spotlight on the live trap and saw the biggest raccoon in the history of the world caught in the trap. He was a monster, very hungry (the apple I'd set in the trap to attract him hardly curbed his appetite) and not in the least bit amused.
What I hadn't planned for was how I was going to get the raccoon and trap out of the attic and through the ceiling hole without suffering major bodily harm. You see, to get the trap out I had to stand on the ladder and tip the trap towards me within inches of my face, all the while being threatened by a large, hungry, not amused raccoon who, in his mind, was fighting for his life. Visions of a face transplant played too vividly through my mind.
As I tipped the trap towards me, the raccoon started snarling, trying to bite me through the cage and just generally trying to kill me. Stay calm, girl...I prayed very, very, very hard.
I finally got trap and raccoon safely out of the hole, put the snarling creature (and trap) in my car and relocated my big furry friend 20 miles away. Yay! humans 2, raccoons 1 (for being so menacing).
Peace, finally peace! My raccoon ordeal was over. Until that night--in the computer room--the frantic amplified noises again. Big, angry raccoon wasn't living alone. He had a friend. A hungry very, very, very ticked off not amused friend.
I hadn't reset the live trap after relocating the first raccoon, night time was not the time to do that. So I waited till the next day and reset the trap. Rabid raccoon nightmares. No sleep again. Lots of praying!
Up the ladder I went the next morning and yes there he/she was, another very angry, very hungry, not amused very large raccoon in the live trap.
Face transplant thoughts, prayers, tip the trap towards my face, snarling, yay he's out, load him up in the car, drive 20 miles, set him free. Yay, humans 3, menacing raccoons 2-1/2 (maybe)? Hey, I've got to at least feel like I won don't I?
This time I reset the trap. No amplified noises in the attic that night. No nightmares. No menacing raccoon in the trap the next morning. Yay God! We did it!
And, when all was said and done, I guess I did end up with an easier access to my attic...
Shepherdess Blog
Copyright 2013 Jackie Deems
