Invasion of the Masked Robber

Over the years my family has always kept a small farm comprised of, not necessarily all at once, ducks, chickens, horses, dogs, cats, and every now and then, a small wild animal or two. With the presence of one form of poultry or another, as part of our family, my brother, sister and I, became accustomed at a young age, to the frequent visits, of a hungry fox, opossum, or raccoon. Back in Massachusetts, we had a bold fox who apparently had taken a few pages from Roald Dahls classic, Fantastic Mr Fox, and after depriving us of half of our stock during the night, returned to casually and menacingly stalk our chicken coup during the day. He must have realized that unlike Boris, Bounce and Bean we were without shotguns. I've been startled by a snarling 'possom hold up in the corner of the chicken coup all too often for my own liking. And while we've frequently called upon the assistance of a variety of traps to redeposit our darling friends to a less chicken populated area, when you're surrounded by at least 8 acres of woods there really is no permanent solution. So, we simply learn to embrace our wild friends and do our best to protect our farm animals.

Of all of our visitors over the years, the raccoon has been the most evasive. Stealthily arriving in the middle of the night, and like a student home from college while the parents are away for the weekend, is utterly unconcerned of the traces left behind. Broken feed bags at the end of a long trail of grain scattered about; horse magazines thrown unceremoniously around a tack room; horse treats with tops wedged half off; cat food strewn about the floor like confetti and the bag caught in the crossfire, plastic and paper shrapnel crudely protruding at precarious angles; carrot bags torn to ribbons and the half eaten contents mounted on top of the magazines, containers, and cat food. No raccoon in sight, but there's no doubt who came to visit.

The last few weeks I've been greeted by a similar sight several times at evening chores. A surprise considering 'coons are religiously nocturnal, so the desperation of trashing our barn during daylight hours speaks volumes.

Last night was no exception. I had admittedly been held up inside and hadn't gotten out to the barn till after 7, but not so late as to expect what I am about to tell you. I brought one of the horses in from the upper pasture and had closed her in and proceeded to round up our two barn cats to close them in when I noticed the mess spilling out of the tack room door. I began to pick up the horse treats, magazines and books and re-stack them on the shelf under the wall cabinet. Our tack room is relatively small at about 6'x10' with the two inner adjoining walls covered in horse tack; saddles, bridles, driving gear etc. The further wall has a counter and cabinets under, and a shelf about eighteen inches above the counter, and then a smaller metal wall cabinet another foot above that. Leaving a very small six inches between the ceiling and top of the cabinet. Considering recent invasion tactics we had decided to secure the cat food in the cabinet and tie bailing twine around the handles due to the plastic cat food container protruding a mere half inch over the side. That being said there was barely an inch gap left between the doors. But apparently that was all that was needed. I went over to the cabinet and righted the two food bowls and untied the twine to get the food out for our two hungry cats. They seemed a bit hesitant to climb on the cabinet like normal, which considering the mess I didn't think twice about. I should have known better. I'd opened the cabinet and began to reach for the food when I noticed something was out of place, or rather there was a very fluffy addition to the contents of the cabinet. I screamed! Yes, I admit it, I screamed. While I'm not afraid of animals, the appearance of two very dark eyes behind a black mask suddenly staring at me from behind a yellow bag of cat food caught me a bit off guard, and I was suddenly faced with a very large raccoon catapulting himself out of a cabinet set at my head height. Thankfully, quick reflexes set in and I stepped aside just in time as he hit the floor with a thud on top of one of our poor barn cats, who was none too pleased at being used as a cushion for such a fall. The raccoon raced to hide himself in the corner behind the door which didn't work as well as he had anticipated since I grabbed the door handle and threw it open at about the same moment. Thankfully he untangled himself and raced out across the threshold, across the barn, and out the door, without hardly touching the floor once. Had I not been shaking from the shock and adrenaline rush I may have doubled over laughing.

The cats are securely closed in the tack room with the outer door shut tightly today. But I have a feeling both the raccoon and myself have no intention of running into one another any time soon.