A Racoon's Tale...er...Tail?

Okay, here we are, halfway through the day and City Boy is reading...and correcting!...my story. He wants everyone to know it was NOT a shot gun, that no one misses with a shot gun, and that he was using a .22 pistol.

So there you have it. NOT a shot gun. A pistol. Either way, there were holes blasted through my chicken house.

Are you happy now, City Boy? (Sorry, subscribers...you're getting this twice! But at leat you'll know it wasn't a shot gun, lest you thought any less of City Boy for missing with one...)

A friend of mine emailed the other day to ask if she could have some turkey eggs added to the incubator. She'd had a few turkey's disappear overnight, becoming a racoon's late night snack. One of those who was nabbed was a hen who'd been setting (setting is country talk for sitting on some eggs...) I wasn't really sure how well they'd fit, but they into the incubator they went. They're kinda cool looking, aren't they?

Some years back we'd been losing chickens around here. Loosing, as in I'd get up in the morning and find a half eaten one inside the chicken yard. Trying to find out what was getting in, and how, proved difficult. There was netting over the top, and no holes in the wire. One small area showed where perhaps something small could have been going underneath, but it seemed doubtful.

We set up the old baby monitor and for a few nights we heard nothing. Then one night we heard the most horrific sounds! I don't even know how to describe them...Rocket was still outside, and he's a non-barking dog. I mean, not his breed, but he just never barks. And this wasn't barking, anyway. It was guttural, growling, and primitive sounding. A sound that would raise the hair on the back of your neck, and send you scurrying for the house if you'd heard it while standing outside. Heck, the hair on the back of my neck was standing from inside! My first thought was that Rocket was being eaten alive.

Turns out the sounds were coming from Rocket after all. Not knowing how to bark, he did the best he could, which certainly had caught our attention. City Boy had trotted out to the chicken coop, only to return at a dead run, grabbed his shot gun and ran back outside.

What happened next will no doubt be a story told around the valley for years to come. We had new neighbors behind us; they'd just moved into our peaceful little neighborhood the week before. It was now just after 10 pm and all the lights over there were out. But they were on before City Boy was done.

Inside the pen was a raccoon. When it saw City Boy come running, it tried frantically to climb the fence, but soon realized it wouldn't make it out. He then scurried back towards the chicken house. City Boy, still on the run, aimed and missed. And missed again. And again. Shots rang out, lights went on.

The raccoon realized it had no where to run inside the house, and the bullets were flying right through the wall anyway, so it may as well take it's chances outside. Out it came, running for all it was worth and scrambling up the fencing. No doubt if it hadn't had to lift the netting off the top, it would have made it. As it was, City Boy managed to finally hit the little masked bandit.

I told City Boy to save the raccoon. I asked him to whack off it's tail in the morning so I could make my dad a coon skin cap. But when he went out in the morning, he found the raccoon but no tail! He came in, wondering if I'd already done it. Who, me? You're joking, right? Turns out we had a raccoon tale, but no tail.

We do, however, have a souvenier of sorts. There are three bullet holes in the wall of the chicken coop.

Bandits!

...or...

The Night City Boy Tried to Kill Me

I was at the chiropractor the other day when we got to talking about my old friend the possum. Dr. E listened in a bit of disbelief as I told him how the possum wasn't playing, astounded that I would even consider saving one of those enormous, filthy rats. I tried explaining to him how lovely they really were, how soft their fur was...how... Well, it didn't matter how 'anything' they were, he said he considered them targets while driving. Poor possums.

I'm not really sure why we were talking possum, but from there it was only a natural leap to raccoons. Yet another 'beady eyed' critter he'd rather be without. Can you imagine??? I think raccoons are perfectly delightful creatures. Sure, they carry parasites that are deadly to we humans; parasites that will invade our brain tissue (which is why you ought not allow your youngsters to play near raccoon dens.) To win Dr. E over, I felt compelled to tell him the story of Edwina.

Years ago, Edwina would come for dinner each night. We knew she was a girl because she had huge, saggy bosoms. (I wonder if Victoria's Secret makes a bra for raccoons? Edwina sure needed one.) The kids and I enjoyed feeding Edwina; we'd toss cat food out into the lawn and watch her reach out with one 'hand', feeling for the food while never taking her eyes off from us. One day we tossed a left over hot dog out to Edwina. She felt around in the grass for her cat food and was amazed to come up with a meat like substance! Snagging her prize and stuffing the end of it into her mouth, she ran off into the woods looking much like a little old man with a cigar.

This image did not convince Dr. E that he should befriend raccoons, so I told another tale.

There was a time, many years back, when City Boy and I lived in town. City Boy worked shift work; on those nights when he'd come home at 12:30 am, he'd make himself something to eat and then sit in front of the TV watching the only thing on that time of night...horror movies! Most of the movies were pretty B rate, but one particular night City Boy found himself getting drawn in. A little spooked from the movie, he thought he heard the front door knob rattle. His eyes shifted from the TV to the door. Nothing happened, so he turned back to the television, sure that it was just his imagination.

A moment went by, and he heard the rattle again. Now just a bit concerned, he turned to the door again. This time another rattle followed almost immediately, and he saw the knob moving! Understandably, City Boy was a bit concerned.

Quietly he snuck into our bedroom where I was asleep. He began to rummage about in the closet, which is when I woke up to find my husband standing along side our bed with a pistol in his hand. Reason does not dwell in my head when I ought to be sleeping, so the sight of this gun toting husband slinking around in the dark was not exactly putting visions of sugar plums in my head. However, I did spring from my bed in an effort to save myself from whatever fate he'd dreamed up for me. Too bad my legs got caught up in the blankets, tripping me and sending my sprawling face first onto the floor. Some get-away! Certain that I was a goner, I turned in fear to face him.

That's when he hushed me and told me to be quiet, and slipped out the backdoor into the night. I was completely clueless as to what was going on. Should I go out behind him? Should I call the police? Should I hide under the covers? Considering I was only clad in an over sized t-shirt, I opted for the last option. No point in running outside half naked, and what would I tell the police? That my husband wasn't going to kill me after all?

A minute later City Boy came back inside and put the gun away. "What on earth is going on?" I asked in a hushed, yet somewhat angry tone (now that I was sure he wasn't going to murder me!) That's when he told me that the door knob had been rattling, and that someone had been outside. I'm certain I turned white as a ghost. I felt weak; whatever was in my stomach was threatening to make a rapid exit as I listened to his story.

Pressed up against the side of the house, City Boy had slipped along in the shadows until he reached the front sidewalk. Holding the pistol out in front of him, he quickly stepped around the corner, ready to surprise who ever it was on our front porch. Well...he sure did surprise the guy. Out on our front porch was the biggest raccoon he'd ever seen, standing up on his hind legs and trying to open our front door! Seems no one left any cat food out and he thought he'd just help himself.

After that, City Boy always made certain there was a bowl of cat food out for the masked bandit.