The bright side of cold weather

As the weather turns colder and the skies a little greyer, many students find they yearn for the scent of gingerbread, the warm glow of the Chanukah candles, or the comfort of mom-made hot chocolate after coming in from the snow. I, however, am most looking forward to the one thing that will inevitably come with the winter season — the hibernation of the squirrels. They mate in the trees outside our windows. They go into a fight-ready position when we walk by. I used to joke about the little rats of Princeton, the pigeons of New Jersey. At the Triangle show, I laughed with everyone else at the song about a squirrel in a dorm building being the most exciting event in our bubble. That was before the third squirrel to climb in my window became bushy-tailed rodent number one to shack up in my radiator.

Sitting innocently at my desk, I heard the unmistakable rustlings of squirrel claws on my screen window and stared at the pulled-down window shade. I knew the heinous sheet of green plastic was the only thing between me and the vermin, but somehow I managed to muster the guts to walk over and lift the shade. Mistake number one. The squirrel completely tweaked out, crawled up the brick wall, knocked over picture frames and perfume bottles, and ricocheted off the mirror . . . three times. At that point I'm pretty sure it broke its nose and was beyond traumatized, and by the time it made it back to the windowsill and climbed up the screen, it had forgotten which hole it had come in through. Naturally, the squirrel nosedived into our heater. If you can't sense my sarcasm, what the hell, our radiator is really freaking hot. I didn't know what roasted squirrel smelled like, and frankly, didn't want to find out, but after banging on the radiator and using everything from flashlights to hangers to try to get the thing out, all I had accomplished was solidifying the squirrel's determination to stay in the heater. My roommate came back from work and we decided it was time to call Public Safety.

You'd think with their matching yellow jackets, huge shovel, and industrial flashlights, the brawny men of Public Safety would take on a little squirrel in a second. You'd think. Turns out they were more scared than we were — after moving everything out of the way to get to the radiator, one of the men kept his head a safe two feet away from the opening as he shined his flashlight around inside to "inspect." After assuring us the squirrel had left and that the heaters in the building were connected so the rodent could be anywhere, the Public Safety guys left. Of course, like the monster under your bed when you were little, the squirrel returned the second after the door shut. He was not about to leave his refuge, and that's when we decided it meant war.

Packaging tape is always a good thing to have in your dorm room. After putting tape along the opening of the radiator, creating a sticky jail of plastic if you will, we felt safe to go to sleep. The next morning, however, I awoke to the thud of the squirrel falling on the ground after wedging his way Cirque-de-Soleil style between the "bars." The squirrel later showed up in our RA's room next door. Pest control was supposed to come, but did they? No.

And so I ask, what kind of place is this that no one will help us de-verminify our rooms? It's enough that we brave the paths to classes everyday with the ever-present risk of a rejected acorn beaning us in the head (it's happened, believe it), but to have to wonder if you'll wake up with beady little eyes that are definitely not those of your boyfriend/girlfriend/hook up staring back at you? Unacceptable. After hearing countless stories of dorm-room showdowns with squirrels, I've come to the conclusion that we officially have a problem. Laura Berner is a freshman from Rye, N.Y.