Quoth the Raven, Nevermore

Big news: the house is sold!  Closing date is June 10, and we can finally move permanently to Cape Breton.  The minute the email came in from the real estate agent with confirmation that the offer was firm, I gave in my notice at work.  It came as quite a shock to most of my colleagues, some of whom spontaneously burst into tears.  My boss ran away and didn’t come back.  The entire day was really quite amusing as far as I was concerned.  When Friday came, I wore jeans to work in a flagrant violation of dress code.  I had lunch bought for me, received some very nice presents, and got docked seven days’ pay for taking too much vacation.  After 14 years of faithful service, you’d think they’d cut me a break.  I’ll miss some of the people there of course, but I certainly won’t miss the commute.  It’s strange to think that I never have to go back.

So, early Saturday morning we arrived at Pearson – only to find that we were actually booked on a flight departing from the City Centre Airport.  Now, anyone who knows Toronto will understand our dismay, as there’s no way we could make it from Pearson to the Island in time to catch the plane.  The Air Canada representative made a few calls, and amazingly, was able to switch us onto the 8 am flight from Pearson to Sydney, only charging us the regular change fee.  Kudos to Air Canada for their prompt and courteous service!  

After a long and tiring flight that involved three planes (Toronto-Montreal, Montreal-Halifax, Halifax-Sydney) we arrived at Sydney Airport, only to find that our car wouldn’t start.  Hardly surprising really, as it had sat in the long-term parking lot for much of the winter and spring, buried in snow, drenched in rain, and now on the day we arrived the weather was chilly and very damp.  We’re not sure what the problem is, but being too tired to fuss around with it at that point, we just rented a car and headed off to Baddeck.

We got to Baddeck just in time to see the grocery store manager put out the “Closed” sign and lock the doors (at 5:30 on a Saturday).  Luckily there’s a small store on the way out of town that stays open until 8, so we were able to at least pick up a few basics, but it was a reminder that this is not the GTA, and we’re going to have to get used to the fact that rural town stores don’t stay open all hours like they do in the Southern Ontario suburbs!

As we drove down our road, it became evident that we’re going to have to invest in a backhoe.  Between the flooding from the beaver dam and the heavy snow, the road surface has been badly eroded in several places.  The rental car (a Dodge Journey) handled it manfully, and we successfully negotiated the deep ruts and gulleys to finally arrive at the house.




We were greeted by glorious drifts of daffodils, and green grass.  No snow!  The roof was intact, no trees down, and at first glance all seemed well.  But as we took a closer look, we saw that an animal had been trying to get into the house.  There were scratch marks around the doors and windows, and the patio door screen had been torn open.  Some of the wood trim around the front windows had been completely ripped off.  The marks on the window brought only one animal to mind: black bear.

When I went to check the upstairs, I saw that the break and enter attempt had almost been successful.  The animal had climbed onto the roof and clawed away a large chunk of our window ledges in the bathroom and both guest bedrooms.  It had evidently cut itself in the process, as there was blood smeared all over the bedroom window.  The most worrying thing was that it had managed to open the bathroom window!  If it had torn through the screen, it would have been in the house.

With a heavy heart, Paul loaded the rifle.  As much as we respect the bears and their right to exist, once they start to invade our home, they have to be removed.  Only a young bear would be light enough to get up on the roof, and so we figured it was probably a mother who had denned in the woods at the back of our property, and her cubs were responsible for the damage on the top floor.  As dusk fell, Paul patrolled the perimeter, but saw nothing.  We had a makeshift supper – once again, no water and no power – then finally we went to bed, thoroughly discouraged and wondering whether we should just sell the place and buy a condo in Florida.

As we were going to sleep, we heard the distant hoot of an owl.  As exhausted as we were, it didn’t take long for sleep to overtake us and then, the very first thing we woke up to was a strange chirruping noise coming from the spare bedroom.  Half asleep still, I thought it was a cuckoo or a dove, but when Paul called me in to the room, I couldn’t believe my eyes: there on the roof, cooing and trilling to each other, was a pair of massive ravens!  They still had the bedhead of youth, and were obviously responsible for the damaged window ledges.  If they had recently fed on carrion, that would explain the blood on their beaks, with which they’d painted the window.  Talk about being caught red-beaked!

It was a huge relief to realize that we wouldn’t have to shoot the bears; but how sick Paul would have felt if he’d encountered a bear, or worse, an entire bear family, the previous night and shot it, only to find the next morning that he had the wrong perpetrator!  There is an important lesson here: when you find animals have damaged your property, don’t jump to conclusions.  It’s better to wait a couple of days and see if you can catch the culprit in the act; that way you don’t run the risk of killing an innocent creature.  

We’re going to have to repair the window ledges and protect the wood somehow – and persuade the ravens to leave our house alone.  We would rather not kill them, so if anyone has any experience with this kind of problem or has any suggestions, we’d be glad to hear your thoughts.  In the meantime, a couple of shots fired into the air with the .22 seems to have sent a message into the bird world, not to mention waking up a rather pissed off owl.

More news later from a rather wet and chilly Cape Breton!