Camping in my house

I live in a place which may one day redefine the word 'city' but that will, or may, be in the future.  Right now, with a registered strength of near about 2500 'citizens', 40 years after its commencement it can hardly be called a city in any established sense of the word.
Officially it is called township. Experiments  in alternate technologies and other sustainable ways seems the prime driving force. It is a force too closely tied up with affordability, I think. You must be able to afford research on finding solutions to an affordable living without exchange of money. In other words you need money to do away with money. (Poison kills poison?)
In 1968-9 the most logical thing the early arrivals here did was regaining the habitability of the dry deserted plateau  on which was the site of "the city of future". They found water sources, reforested the area successfully.  Today the place is certainly one of the brightest green spots between Chennai and Pondicherry, thanks to those few who felt the need to start afresh, as it were, civilization. After some 40 odd years it has grown into clusters of neighborhoods, each a group of dwellings from 4 to 40. Each community is surrounded by a lush tropical dry evergreen forest. Living in this sort of a set up can be comfortable. There are times though, odd times, when things can get a bit sticky.
When, for instance, in a storm recently several trees got uprooted. Transformers channeling electric power supply were broken. There was no electricity for almost a week. In a regular city we might have enough resources to attend to disrepair immediately, but here these things can take time.
We live in a apartment block/s. The architect for some reason has made a sort of a floor to roof, 2x2 opening through which are vents releasing septic fumes into the air way above our heads. God knows why, but animals from the jungle sometimes take refuge in these hideouts. Some come there to die quietly, others to breed quietly. I have had rats dying there before. They remain there until their carcasses start  smelling foul. Occasionally I tie a perfumed cloth around my nose and clean up the area. Other times I give up searching for the dead gecko or what might have been a rat.
Indoors live large geckos, sometimes as large as medium sized lizards. They die when their time's up. They die in the oddest of places. It is not always possible to find where they lay rotting.
Last week suddenly my place began stinking of dead animal. I sniffed around like a dog as much as I could, then gave up when it proved impossible to locate what I presumed was a gecko. I know from experience that geckos stink for a couple of days and then it is over. So I hoped it would stop after a day or two. But the smell continued its oppression for days together without any sign of abatement. Then I decided to ask my maid to suggest where she thought the stink came from. She  suggested that it came from the opening in the bathroom. I opened the side door and a terrible cloud of  smell oppressed me.
Mustering enough resolve I flashed a torch beam in the pit and something moved. I called my gardener for help. He prodded the thing and it moved again. It swiftly clambered upon the vertical pipe. With it were two young ones.
 It was a family of brown gray fox-like animal, but smaller. They were not dead; they just stank like dead! I knew that animal body rejects can smell bad but I did not know it could be this bad! They had found our pit to camp until perhaps the young ones grew up a bit.
The gardener and I made sure that they had indeed returned to the forest. Then we spread some thorny twigs on the  pit-floor so as to prevent further nesting and camping of forest denizens.