T R

3:45am, can’t sleep. So why not just get up and write something. OK how
about what woke me up, aside from all other lifes troubles, coons, yes those lovable
little scamps, Raccoons.
Let me start at the beginning, you have no choice, anyway.
An old man, in an area at the edge of town, was over run by cats and
coons. Probably at least a dozen coons and 20 cats. His mornings, evenings and
social security, were each pretty much taken in order to feed them all. Dog food is the
staple, then the gallon of milk, and all the rest of the trimmings. Old people always have
a lot of little extra stuff mixed into their animal food. Anyhoo, something needed
to be done, ( read the cat killing write thing ). I volunteered my services.

( A side note, after many years of many cats, my family’s little world of animals has
finally stabilized the cat thing, 6 males, and one fixed girl cat, I don’t live in town. )

First trap, was a little bitty animal carrier, caught nothing. Then my son found a big old
fish net, spent an hour fixing the holes and he was jazzed to catch some cats. 5 minutes
into it he says “ boy this is hard” drops the net and starts doing something else. His
dad, gets a culvert pipe, and old sleeping bag and a bungy cord. The bag is 2 feet
from the mouth of the pipe, with the bungy cord stretch into the pipe. The coon goes
into the pipe to eat, trips the trap, thunk, a soft sleeping bags gently says gotcha
guy.
No offense to the pollocks or rednecks, this was an all white, city boy, non
hunting dumb ass idea for a trap. I pushed the pipe off to the side and started doing
something else.
OK, now I get a real trap, from the animal control. Man this thing is
uptown, whack and they are caught. Three days, we get 9 cats and 9 coons,
four days into it we got however many cats left and the coons are gone, one went into the
big big big indoor world we have for temporary holdings went straight to the other end
and was gone. The others waited until dark.
OK, I have another big big indoor world, for temporary holdings, made from
railroad ties, they ain’t getting out of this one. Yup they get out, man I can’t figure it
out, at first I laugh, now I’m down to using the F word. Two weeks into it I
retransported some of these little guys three times, they are not happy about the ride
anymore, the are downright pissed, as am I.
OK this is not going to end up like the automatic dog food dispenser, Raccoons
can’t possibly be as smart as chickens. No way
I dig a mote on the inside, then take chicken wire, nail it to the bottom tie, lay
the two feet excess into the mote and bury it. I am so proud of myself. Even if the
Rube Golberg coon door drop off entry point for recaptured escapees, I spent two hours
designing doesn’t work like I intended.

OK at present I think I have four, I thought there was five. We are all settling
into the drill, except for the one that latched onto my finger. I hope he was the one in
the cage that flew out of the back of my truck during a retransport trip.
Its only a matter of time until they get out, I swear, they are taking this
chicken/coon/shed/tie house apart. At the beginning the old man said something about
pouring cement, ha ha I laughed.
Its five am now, all the other animals are beginning to collect around the front
door, as this is and I am entering into it, my wifes quite time.
And thank you, Charles Kuralt, for inventing Sunday Morning quite time, Think
about that.