For several weeks we have been dealing with three little furry creatures that make it their soul purpose to have nightly skirmishes in our garage. They eat all the cat food and then start growling at each other and tearing up anything they can get their little hands on. Sometimes, they wake me up in the middle of the night with their antics and then I wake up Clay hoping he’ll go put an end to all the annoyance. Clay sits up in bed and scratches his whole body swears that he’s seeing the ghost of his aunt’s-nephew’s-son’s-wife and asks me “Do you see that, do you see that?!” then he flops back down and resumes his sleep and I lie awake less concerned about the wildlife in the garage and wondering if my husband is in fact in touch with another dimension.
Yesterday, I went to put my precious few chickens to bed. I locked them in the outside run and then I walked around to go inside the coop to collect the eggs. When I opened the door the girls started throwing an all out tizzy fit and several of them ran right back outside. I rushed back to look in the run to see one of our nightly visitors crawling up the wire! So, I cleared the rest of the chickens out and closed up the coop so he couldn’t escape. I yelled to my daughter to get the camera.
Oh, My-Giddy-Up-Murray and Holly Crap Balls!!!! We caught a raccoon in the coop!
I stood there watching that little sucker, contemplating how I would torture the chicken eating-cat food stealing-wake me up every night- furry punk.
He nestled himself in the corner exposing his belly and panting like a dog. My children made loud exclamations that were not helping my evil thoughts of this creature’s slow and painful death.
“He’s sooooo cute! Look at that little face! Oh, he’s scared, poor thing!” and the clincher..”Can we keep him?”
I kicked the cage and said in my best Clint Eastwood voice, “I know who you are and I know what you’ve done. Don’t try to act all innocent. You’re going to die. Just as soon as my husband gets home. Any minute now. He’ll be here soon and then you’re history. Just a few more minutes. “
When Clay finally arrived on the scene the raccoon and I were practically friends, but I told Clay to go get his gun anyway. After several minutes of prodding the raccoon with a shovel and pole and metal rod and then just opening all the doors in the coop, the intruder climbed out onto the roof and made a break for the woods.
Look at that pose! He looks like he’s been hunting for years. But, in reality this is the first time he’s shot at a living animal. He got two shots at the raccoon and hit him both times, but not fatally. The raccoon ran down in his hole and we haven’t seen him since. Clay’s heart rate didn’t drop back to normal for several hours.
Hopefully the message has been sent; We will not tolerate cute woodland creatures killing the chikens or tearing up the garage, my husband has a gun, named Bessy no less, and he’s only mildly afraid to use it!