Here's what happened. They guy who came to take the squirrel away stuffed some newspaper into one of the holes under the eaves where he thought the squirrels might be getting in. We were to block up the other eave, which we did.
"If it's a gray squirrel, it'll shove that paper right out in order to get out," our Critter Control man told us.
So the next day I heard...noises...coming from a new place. Not under the stairs, but in the walls closer to the eaves where we'd blocked the entryways. There was no growling, but I heard scampering and shaking, as if prison bars were being shaken by prisoners in warning right before they riot.
I called my husband at work.
"What if we've pissed them off by capturing one of their own?" I whispered.
"Why are you whispering?" he asked.
I scrunched back further underneath the bed and covered the mouthpiece with my hand. "Because I don't want to give away my position."
On the bright side though, we heard no activity this weekend. And this was the weekend we got our first snow. (They told us 3-5 inches of the white death was coming and the whole state stock-piled bread, milk, and toilet paper. We got an hour and a half of snow, about 1/2 inch, and it melted in the blazing sun the next day).
I thought for sure with the snow and cold temperatures if anything was outside it would come in and we would hear it. The fact that we didn't makes me happy. Maybe...oh please, oh please...maybe they really are gone.
Or maybe they're just waiting, planning their revenge.