Taming the Beast in Your Basement

“I get a lot of calls about animals in pools,” Ray Hartley said. “Squirrels in ponds. Skunks in ponds. I usually tell people, 'You don't need me. You have a skimmer, just scoop it up carefully!' “However, recently a woman rang the doorbell about a deer in her pool.

“This was a first,” said Mr. Hartley, owner of Intrepid Wildlife Services in Westchester County, NY. His slogan: “Your castle shouldn’t be a zoo.”

We can deal with annoying seagulls on the beach. But when it comes to raccoons in our chimney, chipmunks in our yard, and bats in our bedroom, we humans are helpless, especially in this era of Uber-Insta-On-Demand. Why should we deal with a snake in our garage when we don't even choose our own food?

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Mr. Hartley is one of a growing generation of professional “critter grids” – also known as nuisance and wildlife control operators. They are a fearless group of (mostly) men ready to save us from wild animals that get in our way. (Or is it the other way around?)

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“It blows my mind what people pay me to do,” Mr. Hartley said.

And lately, people are paying to see woodchucks — starting at $400 for up to four visits. Woodchucks, or marmots, tear up the lawn, dig tunnels, erode the foundation and eat up the electricity. “I jumped about 250% on woodchucks!” he said. “Jammed on squirrels too.”

And last summer – every summer – bats, 24/7. Bats in toasters. Bats in washing machines. “Bats and squirrels are my bread and butter,” he said jokingly.

He answers between 200 and 300 frantic calls a month, he said. Whether winter (mating skunks), spring (flying squirrels), summer (rabid bats) or fall (raccoons searching for caves), all you have to do is call. Whether it's two in the afternoon or four in the morning, he races past in his Toyota Tundra Rock Warrior. And calculate accordingly.

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Mr. Hartley, 53, started trapping beavers and coyotes in rural New Hampshire in the 1990s, long before the industry had formal training as well as Facebook groups and national conferences. He was pretty much a lone wolf back then, self-taught, supported by a bi-monthly magazine called Wildlife Control Technology and his buddy's VHS, Snaring Beaver Alive.

“The farmers loved me,” he remembers.

They paid him with bushels of corn and bottles of maple syrup. But he didn't love New Hampshire. “Too many do-it-yourselfers,” he said. “Business is much better in Westchester.” (Plus, people there pay in cash.)

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Business is booming, said many of the wildlife control operators who attended last year's Wildlife Expo in New Orleans, which drew record attendance and offered programs like “Zoonotic Disease: What You'd Rather Not Know” and infrared rat tours of downtown. The annual industry event is hosted by the National Pest Management and National Wildlife Control Operators associations.

“The industry has grown exponentially,” said Mike Tucker, 60, who has hunted squirrels in Minneapolis for 40 years. He and Mr. Hartley stood on the second floor of Harrah's New Orleans Hotel & Casino – surrounded by furry replicas of rats and cans of Critter Ridder repellent.

“It’s urbanization,” explained Mr. Tucker, wearing a navy “Wildlife Removal Services” cap. “We’ve made it more hospitable to animals. Sleeping under a porch is more comfortable than sleeping under a rock. We put up our birdhouses…We house them, we feed them and then we complain about them!”

As urban populations grow and developers move into previously uninhabited areas, people and wildlife are interacting more and more. And more interaction means more conflict. “People are used to having a pool guy and a landscape guy, now they need a raccoon guy,” Mr. Tucker said.

An industry veteran, Mr. Hartley led a conference session titled “Preparing for Unexpected Jobs.” He showed a video of himself pulling a growling raccoon out of a customer's bathroom wall with his (gloved) hand and then placing it in a steel Tomahawk live trap. “That’s how we do it, guys!” he said.

The crowd cheered.

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Escorting uninvited guests out is a big part of the performance, but so is sealing entry points and installing devices such as chimney caps to prevent break-ins into the house in the first place.

This also includes educating customers. “People call all the time and say, ‘Oh my God. There's a coyote in my back yard!' ” said Mr. Hartley. “I think, 'Yeah, it's nature. Call me if it gets aggressive.' “

“Customers have no idea,” Mr. Tucker added. “A guy once demanded that I find the squirrel eggs in his attic. He was from New Jersey. That does not matter.”

Prices vary greatly depending on the animal and location, urgency, severity and number of visits required. A bat call in the middle of the night in Chappaqua could cost $325; a midday squirrel call, minimum $485; a raccoon eviction in San Francisco: $140 for an inspection and $400 for Junio ​​Costa—aka Mr. Raccoon—to catch, say, Pole One feasting in your kitchen.

Most wildlife control officers do everything – snakes, squirrels, skunks – but they often have a soft spot for certain animals. Keith Markun, owner of Beast Wildlife Solutions in St. Paul, enjoys working with birds and bats and has a bat colony engraved on his arms as proof.

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Jimmy Hunter of Nashville has seen an influx of armadillos. And Gregg Schumaker is all about skunks. He calls himself the skunk whisperer of northern Michigan, where he removes about 200 a year from vacation homes and luxury hotels. He also has a pet skunk. His name is Tybalt, like the Shakespeare character, and he gets to sit on the couch.

“I like the smell of the spray,” Mr. Schumaker admitted. “A lot of people do.”

Newcomer Dan Bailey, 24, with a degree in wildlife biology, takes care of a lot of snakes in New England. He once removed a 2-foot-long milk snake from a nail salon. “That was fun!” he said at the fair, beaming next to a stack of pamphlets on pigeon prevention.

It may be some time before he learns what Mr. Hartley and his colleagues have confirmed after decades of home visits. What's the craziest animal you've ever dealt with?

They answered in unison, “Guys.”

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