We have a raccoon problem. Mind you, I know that we live in the country and that raccoons were here first, but I draw the line at them camping out on my front porch. The other day, our dog refused to come in the house and kept playing by the garage. My friend and I walked around the corner and I crawled into the bushes to see what she was chasing and thought she had cornered a cat. As I reached in to rescue the cat, I saw the rings on its tail and stumbled back, dragging the dog with me. My friend said, “Let me do it. I’m covered for rabies for the next five years!” (She had an unfortunate altercation with a feral cat last summer and had to go through the series of Rabies shots.) We both sat on our heels and laughed.
After the vet gave me strong warnings not to let pets come into contact with either the animal or it’s droppings because she could develop Baylisascaris or “raccoon disease” (which can be fatal), I decided that something needed to be done. I talked to some friends and neighbors seeking advice on how to deal with the problem, and most agreed that a live trap was the best solution. Let me just say that this is one of those things that is best thought out in advance. I, on the other hand, did not give it enough thought. Before I go on, let me point out that once you start such a project, you should know how you plan to end it.
A friend loaned us a trap and showed me how to bait it. He tied a 12′ rope onto the end of it and asked if I knew what the rope is for. Without blinking an eye, I responded, “So you don’t have to go into the pond to get the cage after you give the raccoon a swimming lesson?” He laughed and responded, “Studies show they can’t actually hold their breath all that long.” He tells me the rope is in case I catch a skunk. Then he proceeds to tell me what to do if I do catch a skunk. I have visions of Gene and I in hazmat suits, long rubber gloves, and a clothes pin on our noses as we carry a blanket out to cover the cage. Because skunks won’t spray you if it is dark . . . right!
Night 1. I put a hamburger bun in the trap.
Day 2. The trap is open, has been turned 45 degrees in the yard, and the bun is gone. (Did the raccoon use the rope to turn it?) I study the trap trying to figure this out. I get on Google to see what raccoons like to eat.
Night 2. I think the raccoon would enjoy an apple. But this time, I cut it in half so it can’t scoop and run. I come inside. 20 minutes later, there is a raccoon in the cage. Apparently, when the cage door was sprung, the raccoon decided to eat the apple and take a nap. He actually looks quite content in there. His tummy is full and he is rather cute. (Note the photo is not our actual raccoon, but you get the idea.) I call my husband up to “deal with it.”
It turns out that once you catch the raccoon, you have to make some decisions. It also turns out that I just don’t have the heart to give the raccoon a swimming lesson or to have my husband shoot it. So I call my friend and ask what he does with them. He tells me that his wife won’t let him kill them either, so he drives over the bridge and lets them go on our side of the river. Thanks a lot!
So after much consideration, we take him back across the bridge and let him go on my neighbor’s side of the river. Then I send him the following email:
Dean,
We caught a raccoon last night. He had a tag around his neck that said, “If found, return to Dean.”
Problem solved!
*This post was written a while ago but not published. It is part of a series of posts dedicated to my friend Charlotta who is battling cancer for a second time and needs some laughs.