Beachwood Wildlife, Part II: People vs. Scavengers
October 3, 2010 § 1 Comment
Nature's Exterminator/Hope Anderson Productions
When I posted “On (Not) Keeping Wildlife Wild in Beachwood Canyon,” (September 7th), I didn’t envison it as the first in a series. After all, how much can one say about the folly of making wild animals dependent on handouts? I also thought my examples–burgeoning crow and squirrel populations and meandering coyotes–would address the subject once and for all.
Ha. Lately Beachwood’s crows have attained heroic proportions: when they fly overhead, you can hear their wings beating–not only audibly but loudly. From the ground, it’s like being an insect in a Miyazaki film.
Ten days ago, I had a surprise morning encounter with “Wolfie,” the mange-ridden coyote discussed in the first post. I was walking my dog on Woodhaven when I saw Wolfie standing in the middle of the street, scratching himself. Although she desperately wanted to be let off the leash to chase him, as in the pre-mange days, we kept our distance while the coyote–now completely hairless except for his upper back–scratched his bald hindquarters. After 5 minutes of this, during which I found myself idiotically shouting, “Wolfie!–go away!” we turned around and took another route.
Then there’s the huge rat I discovered a week ago Saturday. I had just pulled into my garage when I saw six inches of tail snaking down the back wall, behind some open shelving. A moment later I saw the rest of the rat, impressively scaling the wall behind my paint cans. From nose to tail, it appeared to be over a foot long, easily the largest rat I’ve seen at close range.
I sat in my car, horrified. It wasn’t just its size that appalled me but the fact that, in an area where rats are a seasonal problem, my detached garage had always been a rodent-free zone. I’d often wondered why–since at various times rats have invaded my garden, deck and crawl space. Now I was discovering the truth: there’s no such thing as a rodent-free zone in the Hollywood Hills–or, judging from the number of bait boxes I’ve noticed in public places lately, anywhere else in Los Angeles.
The rat’s size made confrontation impossible. I hastily exited the car, shut the garage door and didn’t come back until the next day, when I found the place quiet. In a fit of optimism, I assumed the rat had let himself out the way he got in, through a tiny gap in the side of the door, and called my exterminator.
When the exterminator showed up on Wednesday, the rat revealed himself briefly before disappearing again. There are now six baited traps in the garage, none of which have snapped. Obviously, I have the Rat King on the premises. The mystery is why I can’t seem to find an exterminator willing to take him on.
Where’s a coyote when you need one?
Under the Hollywood Sign 
Update: After my exterminator said, “Well, I’m not going to catch him with my hands,” I found one that does just that: All City Animal Trapping. Today Robert came and went through the garage, finding nothing until he looked behind a solid plywood storage case and saw the rat hiding there. After much maneuvering, he finally got the rat–a shape-shifter that looked much smaller on the ground–to run out. It escaped but I don’t care: Robert closed the gap in the side of the garage door and all is back to normal.