The Ricky Relocation Project

It was a blustery September day, back in 1999 when I first met my friend Ricky.  Floyd was on his way, and I was busy clearing off the back patio - taking the light objects inside, batoning down the hatches, and tying down anything that I thought Floyd might make mischief with, and Ricky came wandering across my back yard.

My first thought was: WTF?  I had only recently moved in (in August), and, though I had grown up in the area, and actually attended high school just a few blocks away, I was still a little unsure about the neighborhood, and what local crazies there might be.

"Dude", I said, quite eloquently.  "You can't come wandering through my back yard in broad daylight.  Get out of here."  I did this last part in my most commanding, most intimidating tone.

Ricky didn't say anything.  He looked at me as if I was an idiot, and proceeded to climb up the side of my patio (as if I was the idiot).

"Dude!", I said.  A little more forcefully.  Get the [expletive deleted] off of the side of my patio!".  I was perhaps a little slow in figuring out that this guy didn't care a fig about anything that I had to say to him.

I own a Mag-Lite.  36.8 oz of self defense hardware that puts out 24,000 Peak Beam Candlepower and is capable of smacking your average person's teeth right through his brain.  Granted, it's not the six D-Cell model, but with my slight build, I find that one to be a little slow on the second strike.  Whatever your personal preference, I think it's safe to say that every home should have [at least] one.

Having taken note of this guy's stubborn refusal to vacate thee premises, I darted inside, hoisted my mag-lite and returned to the patio.  But Ricky was already gone.

Fearing the worst, I assumed that he'd climbed atop the patio roof.  So I ran upstairs, opened the hallway window, and scanned the roof for signs of him.  Nothing.  I closed and locked the window and returned to the patio.  Still no sign of the fellow.  Perhaps he had taken refuge from the approaching storm beneath the patio.  Perhaps he had simply moved along to disturb another household.

I discarded the whole event as an isolated incident.

The following summer I was running speaker wire and network cable out on the patio.  I decided that running it above the ceiling would be the aesthetically correct thing to do, so I climbed up in the the narrow crawlspace between the celing and the roof. 

It was a hot day, and even hotter in the cramped "attic" of the patio.  The access point is on the side furthest from where I had pulled the wires from the basement, but somebody had thoughtfully laid planks across the joists, and, though the entire endeavor was in some ways tedious, progress was quick.

When I arrived at the opposite side, I was puzzled to find piles of what appeared to be, to my admittedly untrained eye, fecal matter.  It was then that it dawned on me that Ricky had taken up residence in the attic of my patio.

I scanned my surroundings with a not slight degree of trepidation - fearing the worst (as per usual), and expecting that at any moment I might be treated as one should expect to be treated upon invading another persons home, which is to say, like a bitch.

I pulled the cables and retreated to the exit with no small amount of urgency (fearing, again, the worst).

Then I played some tunes.  I think it might have been "Summer Nights", off of Van Halen's 5150, but I'm not sure, and it's not really all that important to the narrative, so perhaps I should have left that part out.

After that incident, or fortunate lack thereof, I pretty much left Ricky alone, and he me.  I'd see him ocassionally - a healthy, strapping lad, though lately he seems to have put on a few pounds, as folks of his kind are inclined to do in preparation for the winter months.  I've seen his footprints in the snow on occasion, and sometimes I hear him wandering about up above while I'm entertaining company on the patio.  We never really converse much, but he does seem to be a likeable chap.

Once, I discovered that he'd dug through my garbage can.  I was quite cross with him on that occasion, though I didn't make a fuss over the matter.

Recently, however, his activities have started to wear on me.  I'm not sure why, excatly, he does this, but he's been messing with the celing of the patio, and bit's of woods havings have been piling up on the floor.  I must admit he can be quite untidy and inconsiderate from time to time.

More importantly, while talking to one of my neighbors recently, I heard that someone had been digging through trash cans in the area, and I let slip the fact that Ricky is living here.  Though I may consider him a jolly nice fellow, to my neighbors, he is likely nothing more nor less than a vagrant and a nuisance.

I sadly decided that Ricky had to go.

The timing is crucial.  I'd hate to put the guy out of his home during the winter.  Granted, he's not paying rent, but to evict him during the cold months seems a little harsh, even to my heartless soul.

Thus today we began the Ricky Relocation Project.

Here in Arlington, there are rules regarding the eviction of unwanted guests.

You cannot trap outside.
The outdoors is where wildlife belongs. Trapping and removing a wild animal from the backyard does not solve the problem - it simply makes room for another animal to move in. This is why exclusionary methods are so important. If your problem is stray cats rather than wildlife, call the League for advice.

...

Relocating.
Many people think that wildlife problems can be resolved by relocating the animals. This is not true. Animals have territories with food sources and support systems. It is very difficult for them to survive if they are uprooted from their familiar environment and placed in a strange one. They often become disoriented, unable to find food or safe hiding places, and often die. Remember, once you have removed the animal, repair any openings through which they came. Otherwise, you have not solved the problem.

We put up chicken wire along the exposed eaves of the patio, leaving open only the corner that he uses to enter and exit.  Maddie even helped.

Tonight I will be leaving him an offering of ammonia, and I've already installed a bright fluorescent light so that he can find his way out. 

I feel sad about it, really.  He's a magnificent creature.  It's hard to get a decent idea of the scale in the pictures I took today, but he's frickin' huge.

I'm really sorry, big fella.

UPDATE: Heh.  He just showed me what he thinks of the light.  I heard a loud noise outside and discovered that the light had been thoughtfully placed on the floor of the patio...

Comments

[Braylen]

Actually, that light was only barely in place leaning against the wall, a precarious perch at best. I doubt he risked the light - it's more likely a slight breeze against the cord pulled it down.

Still, it's fun imagery.

[Braylen]

Update 2: I stopped by this afternoon, and he was nowhere to be seen. So, I went ahead and stapled up the rest of the chicken wire, permanently evicting him from your home (heartless bastard). Of course the way your roof is rotting, it will probably fall off on its own accord long before the weather turns chilly. ;-)