Huckleberries: Rural life is fine until Woody Woodpecker comes knock-knocking

Huckleberries Wednesday:

Lee Sorenson of Post Falls enjoys reading Ammi Midstokke’s adventures in the S-R Outdoors pages.

It reminds him of “the years of commutes, winters, and Mother Nature’s jokes” in the Spirit Lake and Blanchard Valley areas. Lee emails: “I feel her reality.” Lee is reminded in particular of a woodpecker that loved the corner of his then 15-year-old son’s room.

It was 1998. The family had just moved into a two-story house. Lee and family did everything to discourage Woody Woodpecker from drilling. The son would chase it off in the early mornings. But it would return pecking before the boy drifted back to sleep. Lee dabbed hot sauce in Woody’s favorite spot. No dice. Then, he hung a fake owl from the eaves. Nothing. Finally, he tried hanging shiny CDs nearby and nailing tin over the woodpecker’s fave spot.

But Woody hammered on. The old hands at the hardware store said a box of 22s was the only solution. They were right. The family felt badly afterward.

Now, Lee lives in the “megalopolis” – his word, not Huckleberries’ – of Post Falls. The only annoying bird in his life is a robin that likes his strawberries. Which is OK. As long as it doesn’t knock first. Full column here.