Since we moved here to the foothills 20 years ago I’ve tried to get along with the little forest creatures. To wit: last spring, birds made nests in our front door wreath and we didn’t use the entryway for eight weeks in order to accommodate them.
But this tentative peace we’ve fostered is an illusion and things are changing now.
The day before we were leaving for vacation, driving to Tahoe, I pushed the start button on my nearly new car and the dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree. The car seemed okay to drive so I told myself it was an anomaly, likely a computer glitch, and made my way to town.
On arrival at the auto supply store, staff kindly plugged in their magic sensor and the code registered a transmission issue. But I wasn’t too worried — the car has barely 10,000 miles on it and was a year old in June. So whatever was going on, it would be under warranty.
Our other car needed some attention before the trip so we delayed by a day while oil was changed and tires were replaced. That done, we resumed our travel and enjoyed a week’s vacation with friends, unworried about the transmission in the newer car.
I’d made an appointment at the dealer in Fresno for the day after we returned from vacation. Planning to stay half a day if necessary I packed my computer and settled in to make a dent in their free snacks.
So I was a little surprised when they gave me a nice loaner car, asked me not to leave the state but otherwise do as I pleased with it and sent me on my way.
A few hours later, back at home, I got a series of texts from the dealer’s bot.
Among those was one indicating the cost of repair for the transmission problem was $1,900. I started to fume and furiously text back that I assumed it would be under warranty when I noticed they’d also sent me a picture — proof in black and white — a photograph of what had been my transmission harness.
And that’s when I knew. It was obvious. The cable, about half the thickness of my pinky, had been gnawed through. And not clean through — dirty through, gnashed, uneven and dangling under the hood.
Josh, my service manager, said it was a rodent and I didn’t doubt him for a minute. The chief suspect is ground squirrel — with no outdoor cats for the first time and a change in landscape — we are overrun.
I asked if the animal had chewed the most expensive cable in the car. No! Said Josh. There’s one that costs $7,000. So I felt a little better. Josh said they were having this problem a lot. One couple had it happen to their BMW and their Ford 250 in the same week.
I felt better still when I vented to a friend who said it happened to him — $3,000 — and I should check my insurance. Sure enough, Mercury covered it under comprehensive.
The insurance people said calls like this for rodent damage were rampant now and, unofficially, it might have something to do with a soy based coating on newer model cars — supposedly it’s irresistible to the culprits.
Unsurprisingly, Josh at the dealer said his representative said there’s no data suggesting animals are drawn to soy coatings. Meanwhile I’m thinking — class action lawsuit!
Turns out I’m too late and research does show it’s not the soy in the insulation that’s causing rodents to chow down.
According to Consumer Reports, scientific tests prove that rodents chew on conventional, soy-free plastics and PVC just as much as soy-based materials. Class action lawsuits have been filed and dismissed due to lack of scientific evidence otherwise.
Since this experience I’ve heard horror stories from so many people. It’s apparently why you see so many cars with their hoods up. They’re not necessarily disabled as I thought, owners are just trying to avoid infestation. And many people say this year it’s worse than ever.
We’re keeping the hoods up, spraying with a peppermint mix, got some nasty traps and a couple of sonar dealies that go right in the engine and pulse light and sound which either deters the animals or, as one Amazon review suggested, makes them dance to the beat of the strobe.
I’ve heard people gas them, trap them, drown them, poison them and I know they curse them. I don’t want to use poison because of issues up the food chain. Plus, the little bastards are so cute and the world is likely hard for them. It wasn’t long ago I smiled when they scampered by.
When we lived in Culver City a gopher popped up in our veggie-laden backyard. I got a couple of rubber snakes from Toys r Us and placed them strategically at the entry points in the earth. The way I remember it, the gophers moved on to a neighbor not so wily.
I figure they don’t think the rubber snakes are real but maybe it’s a strong warning or deterrent like a locked car with a blinking alarm. I believe it worked. I wouldn’t swear it in court.
But I’d love to go back to the days when the little creatures were my friends. And to hear your solution to what appears to be an ever-growing problem.
Kellie Flanagan is a staff writer focusing on Eastern Madera County and can be reached at kellie@mariposagazette.com
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