The Raccoon War
Part 4

It was a sunny day when I ascended the stairs. It was quiet, almost too quiet, somewhere, far off, a dog barked. With a colander balanced on my head, a pair of goggles and a yellow broom handle I prepared for battle. As my head rose slowly into the loft my eyes could not adjust to the darkness fast enough. The broom handle was prepared to swing at anything- I understand civilian casualties. In the thick of ‘the shit’ a squirrel might have been up there nursing a young squirrelette while waving a white flag and I would have bludgeoned it.

My eyes adjusted finally and I could make out the contents of the loft. Several old lamps and a 1920’s sewing machine were stored in the corner and in the middle of the room was a large pile of dung. Years of shit. At the top of the pile were fresh green pellets of rodent poison in the shape of raccoon crap. I truly was knee deep in the shit but the raccoons were gone.

The raccoons had given up and fled. A warm glow of victory filled me and kept me, for the moment, from feeling foolish.

The Raccoon War
Part 3

In retrospect it would have been more prudent to hire someone to catch and dispose of the raccoons. It’s relatively cheap and it wouldn’t have dragged on for years. For some reason this never occurred to me and with all of the people I consulted no one suggested it. This brings me to the realization that I need to befriend a smarter crowd but that is neither here nor there.

My plan of attack had 3 phases.

Phase #1 Sicken the raccoons. There were several boxes of green pelletted rodent poison in the basement. I knew this wouldn’t kill them but a nasty tummy ache was just the thing to show them they were up against a pretty tough character.

Phase #2 Make a lot of noise. (This, I agree was lame but it put off #3) This, I hoped, would make them very jumpy from lack of sleep thereby making their judgment poor. Of course it might just make them cranky and there is nothing more dangerous than a cranky raccoon with an upset stomach

Phase #3 Climb up the stairs to the loft and confront them.

I was hoping the first 2 phases would make the third obsolete. For several weeks I left little pellets of green death scattered around the shed and threw rocks against the walls of the loft. My neighbors began to get nervous and stopped making direct eye contact with me. “Raccoons…gotta get rid of the raccoons,” I ranted incoherently to them.

Finally phase #3 had to implemented- it couldn’t be put off any longer. As you climb the stairs to the loft your head is exposed first. Presumably the raccoons were well aware of this Achilles’ heel, what they hadn’t anticipated was that I was not above putting a colander on my head, swimming goggles to protect my eyes and wielding a broom handle.