Mug Shots

Day 296: I'd heard about the crime problem in rural Pierce County before I took up the badge of Squirrel Enforcer. I knew I had a hard job ahead of me, but I was new to the beat and just a little naive. "Hard" to me meant that I'd still be going home to my wife and kiddies at night, eating three squares and watching a little TV before catchin' a few zzzzzs like a normal person. "Hard" didn't include 24-hour stake-outs and clever perps who could steal the tie right from under your chin without you noticing. No, "hard" meant something entirely different to a rookie who was badge-proud and cocky. I got over being green damn fast when I came up against the Townsend gang, and now I have a reputation with the Force. I also have one with the Townsends, and for the same reason: I bring 'em in. One by one, I bring 'em in, transfer the little creeps to Lewis County and go back to my stake-out. It's a hard job, but somebody's gotta do it. That's me, Trapper the Squirrel Cop. I'm good at it.

Dipping The Ocean Dry

Day 282: I feel like I'm trying to dip the ocean dry with a teaspoon...one with a hole in it. Okay, this guy is a Townsend's Chipmunk, not a Douglas Squirrel like the nine before him, but he is still a wire-gnawing, insulation-shredding rodent, and a free agent at the moment. All up and down the valley (Park included), we are experiencing an invasion of Rodentia on record levels. Our campground hosts and tent-site occupants are reporting mice in enormous numbers, and I've had them in the house where they've never come before to brave the cats in prior years. I have relocated ten "squirrels" (counting Chip's cousin #10) and know that I have at least two more (one each, "chip" and "doogie"), one of which is residing in the wall of my bedroom. It keeps me awake nights, clawing at the wood. The small investment in a Hav-a-Hart trap is paying big dividends, although I'm getting a little tired of driving over the river and up the hill to release the offenders well away from anyone else's home. Cute though they may be, these critters are the stuff of homeowner's nightmares. Go home, you little varmints! You have thousands of acres of open forest right across the road and don't need to move into my house.