Look What My Paw Done Trapped!

For those of you who don’t know it, I live in the country. While my house is in “town,” meaning Main St. is just 3 blocks away, if you walk 5 minutes in the opposite direction, town vanishes and the landscape becomes populated with barns, cows and cornfields. Of the many farms that surround my town, there is one in particular that I love. It’s my parents farm.

Although their farm is void of cows, pigs and chickens (well, there are a few in the freezer), their 35 acres abounds with animals, ranging from deer, turkey and coyotes to barn cats, birds and muskrats. My parents are nature enthusiasts, meaning they have a soft spot in their hearts for most wildlife. They feed the barn cats, pause in admiration of the sandhill cranes, cheer on the scurrying red fox, allow swallows to inhabit the barn and will soon be erecting houses for the local bats.

However, when you live in the country, coexisiting with fur and feathered creatures, one learns that come critters do not appreciate such hospitality. Some fur balls exhibit destructive and combative behavior, which is understandable. They are, after all, wild animals. Of the myriad of species living at the farm, two remain unwelcome: the muskrat and raccoon. They’re relatively selfish and mean creatures.

A few weeks ago, this barn…

…home to the swallows and site of my wedding, became home to a large creature that delighted in burrowing into the floor of the lower barn and popping up floor planks, harassing other animals and leaving ginormous turds behind. Such behavior is not appreciated at the farm, and should one chose to participate in such activities, a cage trap with delicious treats will promptly be set out for you.

On Monday night, my parents caught The Pooping Bandit – a big, fat raccoon.

It’s adorable, isn’t it? Had the Coon and I been characters in a Disney movie, I surely would have snuggled it and loved it and we would sing duets in the forests and save the kingdom from Hortense, the evil and ugly stepsister of beautiful Princess Alana. But alas, the raccoon and I were not destined to become cartoons or comrades.

However, that coon had nothing to worry about. When I arrived at the farm, it was peacefully sleeping, flanked by food and water my mom had set out for it. This wasn’t surprising to see, as my parents tend to make sure every visitor to the farm is well fed and utterly relaxed.

A few moments after my dad snapped the above photo of the raccoon, it was released in to a wooded area about 20 miles away from the farm, where I’m sure it will live a very long and happy life. God speed, Coon. May you live long and prosper…just don’t do it at the farm.

• ← A New Friend and Fellow Home Remodeler
• What Remains of My Shoes →