A tale of two coons

Actually, it was just one coon with two run-ins. That just doesn’t sound as flashy as a title, though. This was something I was sure you would get a kick out of even though it happened the first week we moved to the farm. That kind of makes it a little more entertaining, actually.

Although we were just getting settled in, I couldn’t wait to putter around out on the farm. I took every opportunity I could to wander around and through the buildings I had never been in and see what treasures I could find. Each day I marveled at all of the good fortune that was dumped on me.

I realized quite quickly that being in the middle a section of wheat and soybean fields meant automatic critters in everything, especially the food for the barn cats. I rather enjoyed my trip out to the north shed each evening to move the cat food into storage and wander back to the house. As I did it I always thought to myself, “I have got to get the ladder out and fix the yard light on that shed.” Do they call that foreshadowing? Yup.

Cut to one evening when I realized about 10 pm that the cat food was still out. As I wandered out to the shed to put the food up I started to hear something that didn’t sound too much like a cat in the shed. I knew just how fat one of the cats was, but it would need to be doing some work on the parallel bars to make that much racket. I decided that I would just pull the sliding doors shut and head back to the house since I only had a flashlight and a pair of Crocks to use as a weapon. As I pulled the door shut something came flying out of the shed right across the toes of said Crocks. After I finished pottying in my pants I decided that I would need to get a burning barrel to get rid of the boxers I was wearing. I also knew that I was the man of the farm, and showing Other my skidded up drawers might just collapse the pedestal that I had crafted over the past week to stand upon. Fooey.

It was at this point that the desire to be the top of the food chain kicked in, so I ran after the raccoon. I’m not sure what I would have done if it would have stopped and turned around, but shaking hands and offering to give her a lift to town probably wouldn’t have cut it. Needless to say, when I got around the corner of the other shed she was gone.

Fast forward to the next day when I decided that I was going to need to wander around a bit more. It was about noon and the birds were chirping. What could go wrong? I owned all of this, for goodness sake.
The farm has an addition on one of the sheds that contains a large diesel generator that will run the whole farm should the power go out. Truth be known, I’m pretty sure that it would run most of the farms in the township, but they would certainly need to chip in on fuel. Or help with the coons.

I had decided on this day to figure out how to start this generator and just kind of see what the whole thing was about. I opened the garage-style doors and began to walk round the generator looking to check the oil, antifreeze, and basically assert my dominance on another piece of my paradise. The building where the generator is housed has a concrete floor with the machine in the middle of the room - picture a tractor without the wheels. I was marveling at the good fortune of having something this cool and handy. I could just picture five foot snow drifts and neighbors looking longingly at the only warm house for miles. My abode powered by this miracle invention would become the hot spot in the areas where others would come to have the comforts of the 21^st century.

I stepped back to the doorway and stood there pondering just how loud something like this would be and whether I could cause the whole place to burn down by trying this on my own. About that time, I began to hear something moving around and making noise above me. I looked up and the raccoon perched right above my head said to me, “You should probably enjoy the last few seconds of sight, ‘cause I am about to scratch your eyes out.” I am positive of this. No doubt.

For the second time in 12 hours I wondered just how much poop your body is able to pour into your pants out of fear. I was pretty sure that the 97 pound raccoon above me was laughing with sadistic glee. I quietly shut the doors and stood there trying to regain feeling in my legs. You know that feeling in your legs right after you narrowly avoid a car wreck? Yup, that’s it.

I immediately knew that this raccoon was not getting the better of me. I wasn’t willing to blow the generator to pieces with a shotgun just to exact my revenge, and I had not yet purchased a smaller gun (mind you, I am no gun advocate, but I have to keep myself at the top of the food chain around here). I hopped on the four wheeler and rode down the road to the Roper’s new house a mile away. Mr. Roper was happy to head down on his tractor to dispatch said raccoon. That really isn’t a very interesting part of the story - he shoots it and tosses it in the front loader of the tractor. Done.

There, now you know the raccoon story. For those of you who now have a crushed image of me, you will be happy to know that I have since battled many other animals with bullets here on the farm and remain victorious. When given the right tools, I am quite capable of takin’ care of business. I still cringe at the damage that I probably did to my manhood that day standing on the porch of the previous owners asking them to coming down and shoot something for me.

Did I mention I was wearing the Crocks then as well?

TJR