Erica Goodman

Author: Rural Banter

Car making a funny sound? Should your mechanic not find the problem, perhaps you had best call animal control.

Last week, my mother's sedan had a lonely stay in the garage without anyone taking it for a spin. Mom Goodman pulled out of the driveway for her Friday afternoon grocery shopping and noticed an unusual sound coming from the engine, which was puzzling, seeing as the vehicle is not even a year old. The muffled sound continued as she drove home and so she enlisted my father to take a look under the hood in hopes of discovering the cause of the annoying drone. Without much prodding, he found the source. A nest of some sort, probably created by a wayward squirrel or chipmunk, was causing an obstruction. No animal was in sight - the critter inhabiting the bundle of sticks and grass had probably scurried off when the engine first started.

And thus, Mother Nature can record another battle in her war against the Goodman family. A part of living in an area of forest and fields is the constant battle of the local fauna to take back their lost property.

The insurgency began in the kitchen garden. Like a military blockade, animals of shapes and sizes tried to cut us off from the food supply. Deer, generally timid and aloof, started to snack their way through the strawberries and lettuce. The moles have since developed their own intricate tunnel system and burrowed in to dine on beets, onions and garlic. The most recent invader, a diligent woodchuck, cleared the broccoli of all its crowns. He kept my mother frustrated all summer long, skillfully setting off the Have-a-Heart trap without ever actually being trapped in it himself.

Rumblings of discontent have found their way into the house as well. There is the occasional swooping bat that sneaks in through the back door. More than once I have been hit by a surprise attack and waited spread-eagled on the floor until the bombardment was over. Having a log home, it is no surprise that our walls are sometimes mistaken for entire trees. There has been many a fall day when an army of ladybugs has set up camp. They swarm the house, dive-bombing everyone who crosses the front porch.

We hope for peace on earth and good will toward all men (and animals). Still, no matter the scale of the conflict, the war between man and beast, the machine and the land is played out daily on our backyard battlefields. Humans may have budding technology and opposable thumbs, but even the smallest creatures have yet to give up their cause of reclamation. My mother now drives more cautiously than ever before, frightened that another mysterious woodland creature might again make its home in her car and come scurrying beneath her feet while she is driving. Her fear is proof that the revolution continues.