STORY AND PHOTOS BY KIM DONER
There it was again, that slightly hollow sound vibrating the wall. Apparently, spring had sprung, and an uninvited guest now shared our home.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m from a family of avid (and that’s an understatement) animal lovers, but I’m hardly fond of additional life flourishing beneath my roof without permission.
Unanticipated noises from an attic (or other previously “empty” crannies) usually stirs us. You may recognize this common sequence of reactions:
THUMP. Whaaaat? Oh, probably nothing. Zzzzzzzzz…
THUMP. There it is again. Is the house just shifting? Surely THAT’S it, Oklahoma weather and all. Zzzzzz…
Thump-THUMP. (Dog whines; cat stares at the ceiling.) Uh oh.
Thump-thump-THUMP. (Dog barks; cat makes flutter growl.) Oh, no. Oh, please, don’t be inside the house. Please…
Thump-thump-THUMP scratchy-scratchthump.
Well, #@$*!!!
What on earth? What could it be?
Let’s look at the possibilities:
Any species that flies or climbs might choose your residence to start a family— if they have access. The best time to do preventive checks is October through December, as squirrels start families in January. Go mark calendars now if you want to spare yourself the headache next year.
However, that doesn’t help today, does it? The morning after such rude awakenings, you’re outside studying the roofline or the gap by the garage door or the area that needs new siding. If lucky, you spot an entrance and swear; if not, even more colorful vulgarities spill forth, as hidden points of entry can be very challenging to find and address.
If the gap/hole/entrance is large enough, two common invaders are possums and raccoons. Both climb, although it’s rare for a possum to choose an attic for residency. But!
1. You search and find a garage-loving
possum in a cabinet.
Do this:
Empty out a city trash can (or one that’s at least 36 inches deep).
Put some grapes and/or meat in the bottom (like part of a chicken carcass).
Create a makeshift stairway to the top for access (boxes, shelves or a tree limb).
Wait.
By morning, you’ll probably have your fella in the bottom of the can, providing an easy/safe way to tote him to a nearby brush pile. Pour your buddy out and watch him scramble off.
Now go home and seal off the entry.
2. You see a raccoon come and go
from a tree branch.
After January, this means there are probably babies involved.
Problem: often, pest control companies will chase off the mother, then seal the entry. But the babies are still there. You will hear them crying for several days before they die—then rot—in your attic.
This thought is nightmarish for me; I hope it is for you as well. Some pest control folks offer slightly better. They chase off the mother and locate the nest. The kits (babyraccoons) are kidnapped and dumped on a rehabber.
This is horribly unfair to all involved; it’s expensive in time and money to raise baby raccoons, especially when a perfectly healthy mama wants to do it herself. Pest control companies do not shoulder any of these costs (and you still pay their bill), so the rehabber must decide whether to stretch sparse resources and accept the babies or allow them to be euthanized. It’s a form of blackmail.
A better response, should the mother flee, would be to wrap the babies in a few old towels and put them in a box where the mother can hear, see and find them. This can work if it’s not bitter cold, as cold babies are often left for dead by a stressed mother.
The optimal choice is one of time and a little effort. If you, the homeowner, know there is a nest, make it uncomfortable for mom. Hang lights in the attic, play loud music (speakers or a radio up there), show up nearby and shout or thump several times a day—often merely discovering the nest and making yourself a known presence will alarm the mother enough to move the babies. The bottom line is she needs the opportunity. Give it to her.
3. You can’t find the opening, or it’s small and high. You hear running sounds on the roof during the day. You probably have squirrels.
These animals present additional problems; they chew, as their teeth never stop growing, and this poses a true threat to any wiring in the attic. Remember, though, nursing and younger babies do not chew— their teeth are only buds—but mama might.
The same approach to running off raccoons applies here: make it feel threatening to the mother. They are mammals, meaning maternal instincts are strong to protect their young. Her wisest choice is to get them out of harm’s way. Give her that chance.
4. Other uninvited guests could be mice
or rats.
They DO spread diseases and usually locate their nests near a food source, so take a hard look at where you keep bags of pet food, grain or bird seed. To protect your own pets (as well as the rest of the native animals near you), don’t poison them. The dying rodent can surface where another animal— an owl or a puppy—will ingest it; the carcass can also decay beneath your vegetable garden, leaving traces of the poison behind. Use humane traps and patience.
5. Last but not least are birds—English
sparrows in particular.
Sparrows like small, dark, structured spots to build their nests, as opposed to containers or dense foliage. Young sparrows behave differently from other chicks, too; instead of crouching when threatened, they literally back their bottoms up and under any kind of shelving, wedging themselves as far into a dark niche as they possibly can.
Since birds aren’t destructive, nor do they carry much risk as far as disease (yes, there are a few nasty possibilities, but you’re probably not hosting a dinner party in your
attic—nor do you plan to snort dried poop on a regular basis, I hope). The easiest solution: let them finish raising their families. But that advice comes with a caveat.
Nearly 20 years ago, we had thumps in the attic. Thumps, along with short, unhappy chirps. The thumps shifted. At first, they came from the ceiling. Then, they came from around the center of the wall. Finally, they sounded from behind the baseboards.
They were nestlings just big enough to thump a nest over then steadily drop between the walls. They could not climb out; parents could not fly down. My choices: to let them slowly expire or cut holes in the wall until I located them.
Four caverns and a new Home Depot account later, I had three bright-eyed sparrow chicks and no way to return them to their parents. But I had (I thought) a secret weapon: Dr. Paul Welch, wildlife vet extraordinaire and former classmate. Feeling confident, I called. The conversation went like this:
Me: “Hey, Doc, I’m standing here holding three baby birds I pulled out of a wall.”
Him: “Congratulations! You’re a mother.”
Me (with a gasp): “Whaaaaaat? Oh, no way! I know nothing about birds, especially baby wild ones.”
Him (laughing): “Sounds like it’s time you learned.”
Me (plaintive): “When I was a kid, I’d try to help, and they always died.”
Him: “Well, if you don’t TRY, they WILL die.”
Me (panicked): “Do you mean you won’t take them?”
Him: “They’re in YOUR house. YOU need to learn how to take care of them.”
Me (totally buying into his scam): “You’re a VET! I thought you took in wildlife! I thought you helped!”
Him: “I do. I encourage people to be responsible animal lovers. I bet those babies are pretty hungry by now. Come on out to Forest Trails, and I’ll show you how to keep them alive. Then, when they grow up and fly away, you’ll have done your job.”
Did he mean I might be starving them? ME? The original Snow White, who feeds everything that crosses her threshold?
Ack. I was there in 18 minutes for my first bird lessons. I totally blame Dr. Welch for shoving me onto the path of rehabilitating wildlife. But…
Those babies lived. They thrived. They grew, then they flew, and it was one of the most amazing things in the world: to release birds into my very own backyard and see them succeed.
A month later, I called Forest Trails. I offered to help and was promptly loaded up with more sparrow babies. I could legally raise and release sparrows, starlings and pigeons (they are not native birds); as time passed, I got my state license, then my federal license, built an aviary and helped start Wing It (Wildlife In Need Group – In Tulsa).
I’ve taken in hundreds of birds, mammals, and reptiles over the years, and NEVER do I hesitate to collar a particular veterinarian for his help (for which he is well known).
Because everything starts with… “thumpthing,” right? ■
