Ahhhh . . . farm life!

The title of this post could be a misnomer.  While we do live on a farm, we don't really "farm."  I mean, the only crops we raise are weeds around the place (our renter does the crop growing.)  The only animals we have are 2 cats (+3 new kittens) and 1 dog.  Maybe "Ahhh . . . country life!" might be more appropriate.  Nevertheless, I couldn't help but think of John Denver's "Well life on the farm is kinda laid back Ain't nothing an ole' country boy like me can't hack"  as we went out to rid ourselves of a raccoon that's been plaguing us for some time.


Although it seems like forever since we've been dealing with the 'coon, it's really only been a few weeks.  First we noticed that our "Mother Cat" didn't have her kittens in the pump house; she had them behind boxes and tools piled in the garage.  Since the dog also sleeps in the garage, we wondered why she chose what seemed to be such a precarious location.  A few days later Steven went out to feed the animals (remember the loose use of the term . . .) and noticed the large tubs full of food had been turned over and the lids pried off.  It was then we realized some animal was getting into the pump house.  We took greater steps to tie up the tubs with bungie cords and removed the cat feeders from the pump house at night.  One night when the barking dog barked longer than usual, Steven went outside to see a large raccoon running from the pump house.  The mystery was solved!  A 'coon was now scavenging from our house. For a week we locked up all the food and feeders for the night, hoping the 'coon would be discouraged a try elsewhere.  No luck; as soon as the feed was back in the pump house, the 'coon was back.  The cats have gotten so they won't go in the pump house until we come out and open the big door.  After last night, we can see why.

The closed off entry . . . 

When the dog started barking just before midnight, Steven went out to investigate.  He opened the pump house to see a very large raccoon prying open the lids of the tubs.  He quickly grabbed what was handy and locked in the raccoon.  He triumphantly announced through our partially-opened bedroom window that he had trapped the raccoon, and, by the way, what did we want him to do with it?  Too sleepy to think straight after being abruptly awakened by someone calling in my window I said, "Leave it until morning and we'll make a plan then."  (He must have been somewhat deflated by my less-than-enthusiastic response, but hey, what could a person expect?)  


This morning I waited until 8 o'clock to call the Fish and Game office.  I had thought of a great plan . . . I would ask them to come and "relocate" the raccoon to a happier place.  (I have been trying to practice the yogic attitude of "Do no harm," so I didn't want to just kill it.)  The response I received was quite a bit less than what I'd hoped; "We don't relocate raccoons . . . uh, they're not endangered, or anything . . . if it makes you feel any better about killing it, there are plenty of them around . . . no, not a shortage of them, in fact, they're mainly pests, and if it's discovered your place as an easy source of food, there's no way to get rid of it.  Yes, killing it is probably your only option if it's destroying your property and bothering your pets.  Good luck with that.  

A fairly easy escape route . . . .

So I got off the phone and woke up Steven.  I told him about the phone conversation and ended with the statement, "We'd better use the .22 so it's cleaner.  He was worried it would go right through, doing little to stop the pest.  I said, "We'll just play it by ear."  As we both approached the pump house (with some trepidation on my part--I have no trouble saying we need to kill the thing to get rid of it, but following through is really a whole 'nother thing!) I noticed the back.  We have a board that's broken and I just shove it back in, kinda tucking it up underneath the other part of the board to hold it in place.  It didn't look good.  With consternation mixed with relief, I told Steven I didn't think the raccoon was still in the pump house.  I showed him what I thought had been the escape route.  He agreed and slowly opened the door.  No raccoon in sight.  The cats were milling around, hopeful they would get there morning food.  We fed the pets and tried to plan our next move.  Now we know we can trap it, we're planning how best to do that.  Unfortunately, I think that might require more middle-of-the-night forays.  Oh well, "ain't nothing an ole' country BOY can't hack"  Steven, are you ready?