One of the things I haven’t missed about living in North America are all the varmints there. Squirrels scolding from treetops and chewing holes in plastic garbage can lids; mice taking up residence in the basement and roaming the crack-filled old house at will; raccoons knocking over trash cans and scattering the contents everywhere; skunks doing the same, but smelling horrible all the while—these all used to drive me mad. I tell you, I was glad to leave ’em behind when we made aliyah.
Of course, Israel has its own pests. Pigeons scattered their feathers and droppings everywhere in Beit Shemesh, and had a special fondness for nesting (and relieving themselves) on the air conditioning unit just outside our laundry balcony. In the winter, when the unit was soaked in rainwater, the smell was indescribable. Feral cats, too, were a necessary evil, keeping the rat population down while living off the fat of the dumpsters, dropping their kittens in everyone’s gardens, and serenading the humans (sometimes all through the night).
Moving to Efrat has improved some of the pest problem. Through the efforts of the neighborhood, our dumpsters are located up the hill from where our houses are; cats who wish to forage must go there. Pigeons are rarely seen in our neighborhood. A few nutters have adopted cats, so in the summer when the windows are open at night, one is often screamed awake by cats entering into a disagreement. But in terms of life-disturbing nuisances, the worst offenders are the Muslims in the three surrounding Arab villages who broadcast their prayers over loudspeakers (something not done anywhere else in the Muslim world, East or West), including between 3 and 4 AM.
We live on four levels, with basement, main living quarters on the ground floor, children’s bedrooms on the second floor (first floor if you’re English or some derivative thereof), and master suite on the top floor. Nighttime in our neighborhood is usually quiet, and most of the pests have gone to bed (until it’s time to wake for prayers at 3 AM). So imagine my shock and surprise to hear footsteps on our roof at midnight last night! Our house is attached on both sides, and although I was in bed, one of our neighbors is fairly handy, and might have been fixing something on his roof. I had been dozing over my book and checked the clock; it was after midnight! Then who was it walking on the roof? The feet made a scuffling sound, but this creature was too big to be a mouse. There are no possums or raccoons here. Hyraxes live in the desert but don’t seek human company. An Egyptian mongoose would never have the dexterity (or the desire) to scale a wall (which, in our case, is conveniently covered with vines) and mount a roof.
I crept to the basement to summon the Cap’n. Together we stood in our room, listening to the movement on the roof. “Sounds like a mouse,” he said, but agreed when I pointed out that this thing was clearly heavier than a mouse. I was tempted to open the glass door and iron gate to the balcony to get a closer look, but thought better of it. (The scene from The Princess Bride in the Fire Swamp with the rodents-of-unusual-size is still too fresh in my mind.) Just then, a small face appeared on the edge of the roof, visible through the glass door. A ferret-like creature took in the sight of two surprised humans impassively, then trotted off to the edge of the house and headfirst, climbed down the vines to look for its midnight snack.
A brief consultation with our field guide to wild animals in Israel informs me that this was a beech marten, a member of the weasel family, and an enthusiastic attic-dweller. It appears we need to make sure that our attic is well sealed, and inform the neighbors to do the same. (Unless, of course, this animal preys on cranky, inconsiderate neighbors or quarrelsome cats. Then I might have to think about it.)
Shimshonit 
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