There's a menagerie living in and around the eaves of my home.
From the day I moved in six years ago, there have been gnomes. The landlord, or whoever designed the apartment, was even kind enough to supply the gnomes with special doors, one in the bathroom, one in the ceiling, and one in the back of my bedroom closet. Sure, there are naysayers who claim these doors are for plumbing repairs, attic access and the third is still a mystery (seriously, it's on an outside wall), but I know they were installed to give the gnomes free rein. How else do you explain the footsteps I hear every night above my ceiling when my apartment is the top floor? Squirrels, or cats, or rats, you say? Bah! It's gnomes. They've even jacked into my electricity (to power their plasma TV, no doubt), which explains why my bill is so high even though I'm not home half the time.
At first, they were kind of quiet. Occasionally I'd hear a thud (knocked over his mug of ale) and have to say "hey, pipe down", but for the most part, the fellas and I have co-existed quite peacefully.
But now, they're getting restless.
I'd say for the past six months or so, the noise level above the ceiling has increased significantly. There's the thuds, lots of thuds, and walking, yes friends, walking. Not to mention the fact that my hall light no longer works (did someone cut the wire and splice it for his own personal use?). Yep, I've been getting a little annoyed with my upstairs neighbors. That is, until the new neighbors moved in.
Well, now the Pidgeontons have moved in under the eaves of the sunroom. The Pidgeontons are loud and dirty. I can hear them cooing (sure, it's pretty at first but an hour later? ARRGH) from my bedroom, which is two rooms and a hallway away. And the mess? There is a pile of pidgeon poop ten inches high under their roost, as well as on my trash can and those of my neighbors. The Pidgeontons are not afraid of owls either. Nope. They just pooped all over the plastic owl MariaElena nailed to her back porch railing. Frankly, I get the willies every time I have to touch the trash can. I fear their feathery retribution for my brazen photo excursion last night. It's only a matter of time before they aim for my head next time I take out the trash.
My landlady, Helen of Oy (aka Frau Fixit), won't have it cleaned up and none of us want to touch disgusting pidgeon feces, so I'm afraid we're stuck with it. Blech!