A Post a Day in May 2019 #5: Cottage life (2)

I have pledged to write a new post for this blog every day in May.

One of the things we like best about having a cottage on the shores of Lake Winnipeg is the abundant wildlife in Grindstone Park, where we're located. We love watching the Bald Eagles swoop over the cliff, the deer wandering through the lot, the birds feeding in winter, the occasional otter by the shore...and so on. 

Less appealing is when the wildlife moves indoors, however. As we discovered one evening several Octobers ago.

This wildlife sighting included a mouse caught in a well-placed trap, but it also included something we’d never seen indoors before... 

I was the first to enter the cottage that evening on arrival and, so, was the first to spot the coffee beans spilled on the shelf and over the floor. Hmm, that was odd. Then I investigated the package of coffee and saw the telltale tooth marks; they seemed bigger than a mouse would be able to make and, anyway, what would a mouse want with coffee beans, for heaven sake?! 

By now Val was in the cottage, dealing with the mouse in the trap. From past experience, I knew that mice can make their way into the most remarkable spaces, so I went into the bedroom and threw back the covers on the bed. (In our previous cottage, this is how I discovered a very neat pile of elbow macaroni up by the pillows. Whatever else we may say about mice, they are certainly industrious. I mean, imagine the effort required to ferry macaroni from the kitchen to the bedroom and then scaling the bedding to hide their foraged goods under the comforter...) 

This time, up by the pillows I spotted what looked like a fur piece – the kind of fur piece our cat, Lewis, liked to lie on. That’s odd, I thought. Why would Lewis’s fur piece be in the bed? Then, I looked more closely –- though still at a distance, and realized it was not the right shape for the fur piece. It was too bunched and round. Good grief, what was it? I called for back up. Val came in and, being the scientist she is, she approached the object with curiosity (rather than my apprehension and distaste) and, in response to my sharp, “Well, what is it?” said simply, “I don’t know.” 

She put on gloves and, with great scientific concentration, poked and prodded the item a bit. Still no clear identification was forthcoming. It certainly wasn’t a mouse. It was too big to be a chickadee or nuthatch. Not the right shape to be an owl. Could it possibly be a squirrel? But the colour seemed wrong, the fur too soft, almost downy. And this creature seemed to have sort of webbed limbs. 

After a detailed investigation of the body on the kitchen table (covered in newspapers) and a close consultation with the book of mammals, Val determined it must be a flying squirrel. Sadly, it seemed to be short one limb, which we realized was that dried up object stuck in the other mousetrap in the corner. 

The poor thing must have somehow made its way into the cottage, got caught in the trap, gnawed its way out and then sought safety under the comforter on the bed. It likely starved to death. There was no blood.

I’ve since learned that Flying Squirrels can squeeze through tiny openings, so maybe this one followed in one of the mice. In any event, we were zealous in sealing off any conceivable hole or slit or opening that any creature might use as a point of entry. 

We love the wildlife, but, truly, it’s safer -- and more pleasant -- for everyone when it remains outside! 

Thanks for reading. 

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