The Progeny
Another Day, Another Dead Procyonidae
It all started with a phone call, last week. The son of a local farmer talked to Loren and told of seeing a funny-acting raccoon hanging about our place when he'd driven by, at least two times.
Keith said we might want to be careful of the kids and that he'd start packing a certain type of hardware in his pickup. Hardware conducive to the speedy elimination of potentially sick animals by the utilization of small pieces of metal being projected quickly out of barrel-type mechanism.
We informed the kids not to hang close to the weeds and such.
Then, TODAY, Trevor-boy was riding his two-wheeled conveyance and spied something shaggy and animalishtic "sleeping" under the Zippy Red Car. He wisely told his older brother who shepherded him inside and told Ma.
I thought, "Hmmm. So, do I want to take care of this myself, or call in the cavalry?" It's one thing to corner a raccoon in the breezeway with a shovel. Or even against the house with a spading fork. It's not very pretty and it increases the heart rate to a highly excitable level, but it can be done. However, taking out a coon under a car, with several avenues of escape, sounded less than a sure thing.
I went upstairs to consult Loren, who was resting due to feeling under the weather, then went down to consult the phone book.
Trevor came up to me and said, "What does a raccoon look like?"
"You mean, you're not sure? Here...let's get a picture up on the computer...(it's really pathetic how much I depend upon this thing)...did it look like that this? With the mask across the eyes?"
"Well...it had long claws..."
"OK. I'd better go out and have a look, myself. STAY INSIDE."
So, armed with my trusty spade and the security of my Eastman farmer cap, I proceeded cautiously out to the red-Toyota-of-stickshift-power.
There was, indeed, something gray and furry residing under the body, near the right, front wheel. At first I thought it might be a stray cat, but no, 'twas the dreaded raccoon.
It certainly DID have long claws!
It also had flies crawling over it.
"Hmmm," I thought. "This may be easier than I thought..."
Picking up a few small pebbles from the driveway, I tossed them, with incredibly accurate aim, bouncing them off the straggly, unkempt fur. It was pretty clear that Mr. Raccoon had not been keeping up with the whole hair-hygiene process. It was also clear that he was, in medical terminology, unresponsive.
WHEW!
So glad I didn't call on farmer Keith to come blast a dead varmint.
I buried the critter and all is well.
I wonder if I can count this as service toward my Master Gardener hours?
Tweet
Keith said we might want to be careful of the kids and that he'd start packing a certain type of hardware in his pickup. Hardware conducive to the speedy elimination of potentially sick animals by the utilization of small pieces of metal being projected quickly out of barrel-type mechanism.
We informed the kids not to hang close to the weeds and such.
Then, TODAY, Trevor-boy was riding his two-wheeled conveyance and spied something shaggy and animalishtic "sleeping" under the Zippy Red Car. He wisely told his older brother who shepherded him inside and told Ma.
I thought, "Hmmm. So, do I want to take care of this myself, or call in the cavalry?" It's one thing to corner a raccoon in the breezeway with a shovel. Or even against the house with a spading fork. It's not very pretty and it increases the heart rate to a highly excitable level, but it can be done. However, taking out a coon under a car, with several avenues of escape, sounded less than a sure thing.
I went upstairs to consult Loren, who was resting due to feeling under the weather, then went down to consult the phone book.
Trevor came up to me and said, "What does a raccoon look like?"
"You mean, you're not sure? Here...let's get a picture up on the computer...(it's really pathetic how much I depend upon this thing)...did it look like that this? With the mask across the eyes?"
"Well...it had long claws..."
"OK. I'd better go out and have a look, myself. STAY INSIDE."
So, armed with my trusty spade and the security of my Eastman farmer cap, I proceeded cautiously out to the red-Toyota-of-stickshift-power.
There was, indeed, something gray and furry residing under the body, near the right, front wheel. At first I thought it might be a stray cat, but no, 'twas the dreaded raccoon.
It certainly DID have long claws!
It also had flies crawling over it.
"Hmmm," I thought. "This may be easier than I thought..."
Picking up a few small pebbles from the driveway, I tossed them, with incredibly accurate aim, bouncing them off the straggly, unkempt fur. It was pretty clear that Mr. Raccoon had not been keeping up with the whole hair-hygiene process. It was also clear that he was, in medical terminology, unresponsive.
WHEW!
So glad I didn't call on farmer Keith to come blast a dead varmint.
I buried the critter and all is well.
I wonder if I can count this as service toward my Master Gardener hours?
Tweet
posted by Ma Hoyt | 12:34 PM
6 Comments:
I was expecting a photo of dead varmint inside deep hole. Ma, have you lost your camera??
And I hope you dug the hole plenty deep.
You know, I thought about that, taking a picture of the dead critter in the hole, but then I remembered the incredibly high standards of this blog and thought better of it, hee, hee :-)
It was buried a foot underground. Is that deep enough?
YOU did the burying? Wow, you are even more of a pioneer woman than I knew. Being a bit squeamish (my kids would hoot with laughter at my qualifying "bit") it would definitely fall on someone else to transport the corpse to the hole. The hole which someone else would have dug. While I watched the proceedings from the window. One the second floor. As far from the corpse as possible.
Just thinking about it makes me shudder. You are BRAVE, Ma. You should definitely receive some sort of reward for stellar bravery and actions above and beyond the call of duty...say, THREE pieces of Dove dark chocolate instead of just one?
Ha ha, Kim.
You probably wouldn't have mentioned the chocolate if you knew how many I've already eaten today! But you could be right....burying a dead raccoon would warrant an extra piece or two.
And you know, since my dad was a science teacher and used to keep pet snakes from time to time, I have gotten used to being an animal control officer. I have killed mice, rats, raccoons, and even removed a rather large snake from the basement.
With various vehicles I have snuffed out the lives of several additional animals within a 30 square mile area.
Perhaps writing about the animals in married life--and none were pets--would be my one chance to make it big, with a book.
As I mentioned in the post, Loren's been sick today, but I don't think his being well would have altered the burying duties. After I first demonstrated my abilities to deal with vermin, he let me take care of them...
It makes me feel powerful :-D
Just curious here: if said raccoon was acting funny, did you get it tested for rabies? Especially if you came into contact with it. I had an encounter in October with a rabid coon that led to vaccinations... not that I got bitten, but I did come in contact with the dogs that disposed of said varmit right after they had done so (i.e I petted the dog). We found out that those of us on the scene that had possibly come in contact with "infected saliva" were at risk for contracting the virus. Not something to play around with as once symptoms exhibit themselves it's too late to do anything. My family has also now said that they will be sending me out to deal with any strange animals since I'm "equipped" now. Hopefully I'm not bringing too much doom and gloom to the scenario, but I'd encourage you to check this out if you haven't already.
Well, it was dead when I got to it. And I disposed of it by scopping it up with the shovel, carrying it out close to the fence and digging a hole in which to bury it.
At no time did I touch any part of the beastie.
I suppose we could give shots to the shovel, though...
Post a Comment
<< Home