Our house has had a problem. But not any more, thanks to Jack Foley, Super Sleuth.
Every once in a while, usually in the early morning or sometimes later in the evening, we’d here a tap tap tap… tap coming from “somewhere above us” on the second floor. We had once or twice had a mouse problem where we could hear the mice in the walls (thank you, exterminators) . We once feared that a squirrel had somehow gotten in the ridge vent of the roof or something (we have no attic) and found its way into the walls, but that seemed like crazy talk. Nevertheless, over the last month or so, every once in a while we could here it. Tap… tap tap tap… tap tap tap… tap. It would sound like it was in Jack’s ceiling (where another roof vent was), or sometimes above the upper bathroom, or sometimes right outside OUR bedroom. I would occasionally look out a window, scanning for animals on or maybe emerging from the house, with no luck.
This morning, the kids were wrestling on our bed while Katherine showered and I changed Peter’s crib sheet. Suddenly I heard it again… tap tap tap… tap tap tap… tap. Infuriatingly close. I opened up the window of Peter’s bedroom and looked to try and see anything from the side vent. I *thought* I saw a bluejay flying away from the house. Could that be it? It certainly sounds like something a bird might do…
Jack called from the other room. “Dad! Daaad!”
“I know, Jack, I know. There’s that noise again.”
Jack: “But Dad… I know what’s causing the noise! It’s… it’s a woodpecker!”
Knowing that a woodpecker would sound more like a machine gun’s ratatatatatat and not the slow tapping, I figured Jack was being imaginative again. Maybe next he’d tell me a stormtrooper was firing his guns at us. So I went back to our bedroom to humor him. “Oh, a woodpecker? Really? How do you know, Jack?”
“Because I can see it.”
Now, I had looked out our bedroom window many times during this tapping and never seen a thing, so of course he must be making stories. Still, as I came into our bedroom, there were Jack and Peter, gathered on the side of the bed, looking out the window. “See Dad? There it is… its shadow is on the chimney.”
I’ll be damned.
With the sun rising to the east and just high enough at 8 in the morning, it was illuminating the edge of our roof against the upper part of our chimney top. Clearly visible on that chimney were the silhouettes of one… no, now two… fat little birds. One of them had something in its mouth, before swallowing it and pecking at our roof again. Tap…tap tap tap. Its beak moved to the rhythm of the sound.
Given that we were considering dropping another couple hundred bucks on an exterminator visit to ascertain whether animals had moved into our walls again… we should probably get something for our little super sleuth, eh?