It would come as no surprise to those that know me that I have 'squirrels in the attic'. This has always been kind of a figurative description but, of late, it has taken a very literal turn. Somehow the little buggers have managed to find a shingle loose which gives them access to a small gap between the roof decking and the fascia. They are living happily up in our attic, raising a family and basically living out what passes for the American Dream - squirrel version.
The problem? Well, aside from the hole in our roof that no longer keeps out the rain, they seem to be a little more nocturnal than we are and, since they're awake anyhow, think that 2 am is a great time to practice their sprints.
Truth be told, I like squirrels. Always have. They are clever, inventive and fearless - or nearly so, anyhow. And, yes dammit, they are cute. But I am really not enjoying the shared living space. I know in my heart of hearts that any non-lethal method of extracting them will probably not be successful. But until I exhaust my patience with the various home brew solutions I am not ready to break out the Daisy.
Maybe I could buy a paintball gun...
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