Squirrels in the Attic

Some time ago, I noticed two things at my house, which is out in the country surrounded by lots of trees. Inside, I was hearing noises above my head–especially when I was in my office on the second floor–and outside, a hole had appeared under the eaves (in the “soffit” as I now know to call it) just outside and above my office window.

Diagnosis: A squirrel or squirrels had taken up residence in my attic. (I don’t have an attic per se, but there is space between my gabled ceiling and the roof, plus a crawl space along the wall.) The sounds were especially pronounced during the winter. Too cold for the squirrel to go outside, I assumed. I dithered about what to do and ended up doing nothing.

I knew, of course, that the squirrel(s) could be doing damage up there, but I was experiencing true magical thinking. The squirrel would go away eventually, I thought.

It didn’t. 

I considered several options. I bought some squirrel repellent—a pepperminty confection that supposedly keeps them away. The problem with that was I didn’t have a good plan for how I would get the stuff in the hole, nor did I know how I would patch the hole once the critter was gone. I also bought two small traps, thinking I would catch the squirrel and take it far, far away. That would still leave me with the hole to deal with, but at least I wouldn’t have the noise. The traps included a warning to check the laws in your locality about relocating animals, which I finally did. It turns out that Virginia law prohibits doing exactly what I had planned to do. Assuming there must be an exception for homeowners in my situation (more magical thinking), I decided to proceed with the trapping and relocation plan.

I baited the traps with apples and set them on the ground under a big tree in sight of the hole. Nothing happened all day, but when I looked outside the next morning, I saw that both traps had been flipped over and the apple slices were gone. The next day I reset one of the traps, configured so it couldn’t easily be flipped, and baited it with walnuts and peanut butter. Again, nothing happened all day, but the next morning, I looked out and saw I had caught something!

Not a squirrel, though. A possum had triggered the trap—which was several sizes too small for it—and was now stuck inside, contemplating its predicament. I know possums are harmless and actually helpful animals, so I knew I needed to free the little fella as soon as possible. I managed to open the trap door, but the possum just glared at me and didn’t budge. So I went away and checked periodically, until, several hours later, I saw the trap was empty. Retrieving the trap, I found that the possum had wrecked its mechanism—as noted, it was too big for this trap—and it was no longer usable. Although I still had the other trap, I decided to wait before deploying it.

Finally, I called a wildlife control company, and they provided me with a solid plan: they would install a one-way door over the hole and reinforce some other potential entry points into the attic. The squirrel(s) would exit and not be able to get back in. Once the visitors were evicted, the firm would replace the one-way door with a patch to cover the hole. This was not a cheap proposal, but I realized it was my best option.

A few days later, a couple of men showed up, installed the one-way door and reinforcements, and instantly there was no more noise above my head. Very possibly, the work was done while the squirrel was out doing what squirrels do and then it couldn’t get back into the attic. Or it left after the door was installed. Either way, no more squirrels. (Later, I saw a couple of squirrels running around the yard in what I imagined was a panic, having lost their home and all of their possessions.)