Terminator: Home Invasion

Disclaimer: If you love small animals and judge people who don't, you aren't going to like this.

As you may remember, back in September, we made the wise decision to move our bedroom downstairs. During the coldest winter anyone from Ohio can remember (that's what they all say, really), it has been great to have a smaller room that our tiny space heater can actually heat. During the tiny bit of warmth we had in September, it was much easier to cool.

But this doesn't mean that moving didn't have drawbacks.

For instance, it turns out that our next door neighbor runs his car early in the morning before he leaves for work. How do I know this? Because the lights from his car shine riiiiiight into my window at 4:30 in the morning. Additionally, the downstairs bedroom is right next to the kitchen and bathroom, which means that if someone has to - ahem - loudly use either of those rooms before the other is up, they might do so and the blender or, um, other noises might in fact make the other person wake up, and not in a fairy princess sort of manner.

But these things pale in comparison to the annoyance that was the bird situation.

I was home alone one day this past fall when I very clearly heard a scratching sound. Being home alone and hearing a strange noise are not the best combination, but it was all made more frightening by the suspicion that the tiny noises were intruders of the rodent variety. Naturally I listened for the sound when Carson was home so that could identify it, but of course they/it was/were sleeping whenever he tried. I couldn't identify WHAT it was and more frightening, WHERE the sound originated.

Over the months, the sound grew more annoying and more frequent. I began putting my phone on its video setting to record the scratchy noises and prove my point. I began cautiously examining the bags of clothes-to-give-away in the attic where I assumed my enemies lived. I never saw a tail or hole or even the infamous mouse poop. It was infuriating. Was I going insane? COULD anyone else hear the sounds?

I woke up at 4 in the morning once, thanks to our neighbor, and heard the sound. The little creature was going to town! I woke Carson up from a deep slumber (he snores like crazy but you just have to say his name, even quietly and it works every time to wake him up) and he heard it too! Thus began many nights of trying to identify the sound, as our little intruder made himself more and more at home.

After some detective work, it was finally determined that the sound originated from a small hole above the window in our bedroom. There's a gap between the window frame and the siding that allowed for an entrance. I attempted to scare them by knocking on the walls which worked for awhile, but it was still 15 degrees outside and with piles of snow on the ground I had never ventured over to actually scare them. So they got to a point where they weren't bothered by me.

Soon we discovered that our rodent was actually a bird. The scratching sounds began to sound more like wing sounds (presumably as the bird worked its way further into our house and made itself cozier).

I've always heard that birds don't have babies until the spring, but I don't really believe that anymore. From out of nowhere the bird was BIRDS. Suddenly at all hours of the day (and night, especially at night), there were bird noises, from the sounds of walking birds to the sounds of birds exiting their home, to the sounds of birds communicating with one another. I don't know if they adopted birds, had baby birds, or invited another family of birds to the party, but it was LOUD. And while bird chirps usually bring a little joy since they signal spring, chirping from my wall at 2am was driving me crazy. 

And yes, I did wake Carson up occasionally so that he could experience the torture with me. One does not suffer alone in marriage; it wouldn't be fair.

Finally I hit a point where I couldn't take it anymore. The birds were too much. "But it's winter! What will they do?" said I-still-have-a-heart Carson. "I don't care. We need to call our landlord or get a gun. This is not their home and they should have gone South" said heartless-horrible-not-an-animal-rights-activist Lindsay. Carson tried to wait until the birds were gone, and tried to nail a board in the way so they couldn't get in, but that small hole was no longer small, thanks to the birds. 

The heroic attempt

So we called the landlord, who protested as well "But it's so cold! What will they do?!" until he arrived equipped with a ladder and spray foam and discovered the extent of the damage to his home. 

He reported later that he'd seen the hole in the fall, which was at the time rather small. But now it was hollowed out and they'd wired the place for cable, set up their armchairs, and really made the place their own. I was inside during his visit, and I heard slight curses under his breath (the damage was apparently extensive) and the sound of foam being released from an aerosol can. 

I slept just like Carson that night, waking up relieved and refreshed to an astonishingly quiet wall. It was wonderful and magical and every night since has been just as quiet.

But just yesterday, as I was stepping out the door to go to work, I heard a fluttering in the wall above the bathroom window and a tiny bird flew out just as I went to check on it. 

Our landlord will be here later this week.