A few weeks ago, I went into the garage/shed at the cabin and was startled to see a huge mass of pink insulation on top of an old chair that a previous owner had hung from the wall. It could have been a modern sculpture hanging from a museum wall. But I knew exactly what it was. My pack rat, which has delighted me for years with its creative collections of items spread around the garage, had built a nest from the insulation in the empty space under the cabin.
Since I hired a handyman several years ago to stop the cold air from creeping up from the ground in winter, I’ve been finding the pink insulation all over the yard and in the mouths of enterprising ground squirrels, carrying it to their underground nests (bottom). I imagine this winter all the squirrels and chipmunks staying cozy and warm wrapped in the pink insulation.
I use this old garage, built for smaller cars of the 1940s, as a place to store paints, picnic benches and chairs, and logs for the wood-burning stove. The pack rat (or rats over the years) has found it an ideal place to take shelter from the cold and from predators, as well as raise its young.
This is the same pack rat, I assume, that a few years ago hung aspen branches, still with green leaves, on the hooks above the work bench (left). I also found the branches in the upstairs attic spread out on the floor in a perfect line. Because pack rats eat leaves, it probably brought these into the shed before winter winds destroyed them. But why did the animal spread them out so nicely instead of just throwing them in a heap?
Almost every time I open the garage door, I find some new handiwork from the pack rat, also known as a wood rat, which are about 5 inches long, bigger than most mice, including the deer mouse that inhabits the inside of the cabin. Most often, I find that empty metal cans, paint brushes and stirrers have been moved from the shelf and assembled into a pile elsewhere in the garage.
Before the rat built the pink nest on the wall, I found a smaller one on the floor in the garage corner, so perfectly rounded that it looked machine made. Leading up to it were small pieces of wood that I use for kindling. I took this to be a barricade, a preventive measure to keep me away from its nest. This must haves been the same reason it laid down a row of sticks and pine cones on a board that’s on the floor (above). They were almost perfectly spaced and lined up vertically. I’m forced to imagine this animal going around the garage and selecting pieces just the right size and then carefully lining them up on the board, perhaps sitting back to see if the sculpture works, then arranging and rearranging. But for what purpose?
When I went online to find why these animals want to create such structures, the first pages that came up were from pest-control businesses, which gave tips on how to get rid of them. Inside your house they can be destructive. A neighbor told me about coming back from vacation and finding her cabin rearranged by a pack rat, at which point she called the animal-control business. If the pack rat got into my cabin, I would feel the same way, but so far the wood rat has stayed inside the garage.
At the cabin I’ve had a lot of amazing wildlife encounters: moose strolling down the road, hummingbirds chasing each other, a river otter sledding down a snowy embankment, goshawks flying through the trees. But I think nothing amazes me more than this very plain, almost ugly animal that creates something imaginative out of simple items in the garage. No moose, no otter, no bird could do anything like that. Not many humans are that creative. And it lives in my shed, so I can be delighted by its achievements every time I open the garage door.