Fraters Libertas

Balsawood Was A Gas

My home is infested with varmints. Not my house proper, mind you, but the sprawling half acre of earth that it rests upon.

The trouble began this past January when I discovered that a collection of no good homeless mice had taken refuge under the wood pile in my garage. I dealt with those little squatters the same way I deal with their human compatriots...with callous indifference. I figured that as long as they stayed in the garage, kept to themselves and didn't try to bum a smoke off me on my way out the door, they could stay. Granted, I made every effort to crush them under my car tires as I possibly could, but our little arrangement held and when spring came they left. Or maybe they died. I don't care which. The point is I solved that problem the best way I know how...by doing nothing.

A similar approach worked for me a few months later when I found a bunch of beady-eyed little furry beasts nesting in my grill. Well...truth be told, the wife found them. She was about to light the gas burner and, upon opening the top, discovered the festering rodent pile within. It was, of course, up to me to remedy the situation since I'm the man of the house (nominally, at least) so I did what any man would do in that situation. I poked the nest with a long stick.

Getting no response to my prodding, I assumed that the nest's inhabitants had fled the scene due to the commotion following their discovery. I was quite certain, however, that they would soon return so I quickly devised a cunning plan that would force them out for good...a plan so brilliant that it required virtually no effort on my part. I pushed the grill to the center of the deck with the top wide open and then went inside and fixed myself a drink. The cruelty that is a Minnesota spring did the rest of the work as several heavy, wet inches of snow soon fell and, with no roof over their nest, my little BBQ critters found more suitable shelter elsewhere. Or they died. I really couldn't care less. The point is I solved another troubling problem by doing next to nothing. Of course, the next time we wanted to use the grill I needed an anti-contamination suit and seventeen gallons of bleach to clean the damn thing out, but I put that task off for as long as possible.

Next came the chipmunks and they weren't quite so easy to deal with. The little beasts were tunneling all over my yard. They were in the garden. They were in the downspouts. They were digging under my driveway, for crying out loud! I tried everything to get rid of them. I filled the holes with dirt and they dug right out again. I filled the holes with water and they just bathed in it. I surrounded their holes with "d-Con Mouse-Prufe II" poison wedges and the little bastards just ate the stuff up like candy and then cruelly mocked me by continuing to exist. I even went the organic route and tried a repellent product that was nothing more than garlic oil and calcium carbonate. I'd have been better off throwing Olive Garden leftovers and crushed Tums around the yard than using that overpriced snake oil.

I was at a loss...until I discovered "The Giant Destroyer". This modern marvel combines three of my favorite things: fire, large clouds of toxic smoke and dead rodents. I have crammed one of these babies into every rodent hole I could find and my yard has now been 100% chipmunk free for three full days. I'm now patiently waiting for Sen. Dick Durbin to condemn recent events here at Balsawood as "Auschwitz-style atrocities" and lead the call for my home to be permanently shut down.

So yesterday, as I was relaxing on my deck with a fine cigar and feeling quite proud of my ability to keep my home varmint free, I discovered a nest of robins on the joists below my feet. We officially have to move. I will not tolerate avian infestations. The very thought, the very idea...I'll never be comfortable in my home again.