Hut is battleground for Packie War

This is a two-part series about The Packie War.

So there I was, minding my own business, when …

The key was inserted into the ignition and turned. The Ram engine tried to start, but would not. I tried again and again, to no avail.

Usually the Dodge Ram would roar to life at the slightest turn of the key, without touching the gas pedal. Now it was acting as if it couldn’t turn over, but why?

I pondered the question for about 10 minutes or so. Then I climbed into the cab and stepped on the gas pedal as I turned the key. The engine fired to life, but died right away. The engine was started again and remained turning when more gas than usually was applied.

I was at The Hut, a cinder-block building used by my hunting partners during the annual deer-hunting season.

I headed for Moses Lake, with the worry of having a disabled vehicle needing to be fixed. Kyle Childress, at C & V Auto was called.

“Kyle, I’m hunting deer this week, but I’m having vehicle problems.”

“Bring it in and we’ll check it out,” he said.

When I arrived, Kyle drove the Ram into the repair area and said they would put Juan Pruneda on the problem. Juan asked what was happening and I explained. Juan hooked up the computer. He indicated it was a sensor problem and ordered one.

He lifted the hood and said, “Oh, there it is, you have a mouse problem.”

“No, Juan,” I said. “I have a pack rat problem.”

Indeed several wires were chewed bare with one severed. Juan looked over the situation and attached two adapters to a small length of wire. After stripping the wires in the engine area, he connected all ends, completing the circuit.

He turned the key and the Dodge fired without additional gas. I left C & V 30 minutes after arriving and after paying a $37 bill. Juan and Kyle saved this deer hunter time, which is almost as valuable as money during deer season.

The pack rat situation was not new. I accidentally backed over a rat two years ago at The Hut during the deer hunting season. The hood of the Ram was opened a day later and a partially constructed pack rat nest was found on top of the motor.

It was clear this current damage was in retaliation for the killing of the pack rat relative in the past. I named the current animal Packie, be it she/he/it. This animal was out for me, for revenge, and it was obvious.

“OK, Packie, this is war,” I said to myself as I walked into the hardware store in search of an arsenal of anti-pack-rat weapons.

In the sack, when leaving, were four mouse traps, two packages of mothballs and a container of sticky traps, the kind with adhesive used to hold the rodent in place.

Upon arriving at The Hut, the four mouse traps were baited with the skin from leftover smoked trout, served as appetizers the evening before.

Two of the traps were placed before and the others after the front wheels of the Ram. One package of mothballs was positioned on top of the engine and the hood closed.

Surely Packie would be enticed to the fish skin and surely Packie would not venture into a closed area where the concentrated smell of mothballs was strong to the point of being eye-watering. Sleep came easily, as the dilemma with Packie was on track to be resolved.

A glance outside the next morning revealed one discharged trap and a dead field mouse. The others were untouched. A smile crossed my face as the hood was unlatched and placed in the upright position.

The smile disappeared immediately. The mothball package was resting on the ground, pushed off the engine by an unruly, rowdy, rebellious and defiant rodent. What’s more, on top of the engine was the most beautiful nest, carefully constructed and placed by Packie.

This nest would have received more of my admiration, but on the right side of the nest was a feather. This small piece of plumage, from an unknown bird species, was sticking up as if it was the flag of the Pack-Rat Nation, but I knew better. The feather was Packie’s way of giving me the middle finger. No doubt about it, the intent was clear.

Next week: The Packie War continues.