We have acquired an unwanted tenant.
He lives in the ceiling.
Recently he’s gotten noisier, and we hear loud thumping sounds emanating from up above.
Now this bothers me, not so much the free-loading part, but rather the the idea of a hairy rodent rampantly running about and copulating in a jumble of live wiring is enough to keep me awake at night.
So we decided to drive the free-loading monger out.
Our knowledge of NZ fauna suggested it was either a rat, or feral cat.
So we went about setting traps.
Day 1, we activated the cat trap at the most likely ceiling access point. The trap was laced with tasty cat food.
The next morning we checked the trap. The food was gone, and the trap set off.
Inside it was one very large hedgehog.
Fortunately, the trap was of the non-lethal variety, and allowed for the safe release of the undoubtedly anxious animal.
We decided to try our luck with rat traps. This time, laced with peanut butter, we again strategically placed them at potential ceiling access points.
The following day beau checks the trap. He returns ashen-faced.
“What’s wrong? Did we catch a rat?”, I ask.
Beau shakes his head.
“The trap didn’t go off ?”, I prod.
“It went off”, he quietly answers.
“But there’s nothing inside?”, I ask. I start having that sinking feeling, like when you’ve just typed rm -rf * under /
“No, there’s something inside…”
“… It’s a hedgehog”.
I feel like K-K-Ken from A Fish Called Wanda. Not wanting to further escalate my accidental hog-reign-of-terror, we quickly disarm the remaining traps, and devise a new plan.
As I work late one evening, Beau sets to work.
Our ceiling now has a shoe-sized hole above us, which is taped over with cardboard.
Extending from the hole are two wires and a string. The wires wind their way around the back of the couch and into a web-server. Accessing the web-server, users will now be welcomed with an image of a rat-trap nested amongst pink bats securely tied down with some string.