Just as we’d all settled into be late last night, our sentinel dog, Lucy, sounded her alarm.
My husband is always quick to become annoyed by her incessant bark-slash-yelp, but I (most of the time) get curious. Since the babes were fast asleep and I was yet wide awake, I was looking forward to slinging a few rocks at, most likely, one from the legion of cats that continually trespass on our acreage and taunt our puppy just outside the range of her chain.
I got the flashlight and shined it out of our bedroom window toward the doghouse to get an idea as to where Lucy’s target might be lurching. She kept looking up into one of the trees. Hm? I followed her lead and guided the weak beam of light up the trunk, trying to catch sight of light-reflecting animal eyes.
I wear glasses, and my night vision is poor besides, so when I spotted the animal in the tree, I second guessed myself when I observed that it moved in a most un-catlike manner. I asked for my glasses to be fetched from the dresser for me. Cue the increasingly annoyed husband. (Oddly enough, my detailed narration of all of these events while they were unfolding did not pique his curiosity! Not my fault that he let himself fall half asleep while all this excitement was going on. Didn’t he know I was going to involve him eventually?!)
Spectacles in place, I discovered that Lucy had chased a RACCOON (!) up the tree and was harassing it from below.
If you know anything about our history involving the combination of raccoons and our flock of chickens, you can now add a newer, happier ending to a normally very predictable story. And incase you’re not a Schmies-o historian, suffice it to say that we always end up with a slaughtered flock and the raccoon runs away with a full belly and messy paws. The makings for a stomach-turning discovery for unsuspecting housewives. This time, it would not be so. All it took was a little encouragement from me to get the previously sleepy-eyed man-o-the-house out of bed and armed with a high-powered spotlight and weaponry of various kinds.
To make a very exciting and adrenaline-pumping story very short, I’ll keep it simple and share that our trusty 22 helped us reduce the risk of future raccoon terror on our property.
6 comments:
Hehe...husbands jump whenever weapons are invloved.
Uncle Joe shot one of Bambi's friends!
Wait til I tell the kids!
Uncle Joe shot one of Bambi's friends!
Wait til I tell the kids!
That was exciting! It was as good as the stories I used to tell Joe.He always wanted "adventure" stories! Mom.
I'm pretty certain that when questioned about a possible coon attack, I was told there was no need to worry. There aren't any out here. New to me, since my bros always trapped them. Glad it ended well for the chickens! =}
E-
I thought you were going to tell us that Joe had a knife fight with a coon. You know I would have recommended a stick horse, as weapon of choice.
You'll notice we don't need to resort to that type of violence at on our homestead. We have sensitivity training for the coons in our area. It's been so effective that the coons even sleep with our chickens. So far no interracial marriage, though.
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