I make no bones about my feelings for those filthy bandits. As I’ve been teaching my four-year-old, “The only good ‘coon, is a dead ‘coon!”
My ire is fresh because of what happened last night…
Saylor has a little “garden” that we planted from some cast-off seeds. It’s a pseudo-raised bed, with marvelous soil that I brought in from the cow corral. Nice and rich.
We planted multifarious corn varieties, and then a couple weeks later planted pole beans and squash. The “three sisters” concept.
It worked well, and his garden fared even better than our main garden!
The corn ears were just starting to look good, and obviously the raccoons thought the same thing.
I walked out to the morning chores today, to see this:
There are maybe 5 or 6 little ears left. And I really hope I get to eat them, but the only way that’s going to happen is if I get that ‘coon before (s)he gets my corn. Who am I kidding? There are probably like 20 of them. A whole ‘coon family tree.
I also found this:
That one was my own fault. I took two 50-pound bags of feed out of the car yesterday before a three-hour round trip to Columbia, thinking they’d only be in the way, and would cut down on my gas mileage anyhow. But I left them sitting on the ground, and didn’t really think about them for the rest of the day. That/those stupid raccoon(s) had a veritable corn feast last night.
I have no live trap, and have been unwilling to spring for one (pun intended, of course). I did, however, buy four foot-snare traps last winter, to catch the evil fox that ate my chickens. Never caught the fox, but did snag a raccoon that ate my poor ducks. Shot him in the head, dead.
So tonight, I’ve set my traps. They’re firmly anchored, and far enough away from my crops that the snared ‘coon won’t trample my plants as it hopes and writhes until I get out there with my .22.
I know, all of this sounds terribly merciless. And so it is. I’ve seen what those varmints can do to my hapless hens; I’ve seen them dig underneath a chicken tractor to maul chicks, and even eat a sleeping chick’s head off by reaching through the chicken wire. I return their voraciousness with a certain unhinged passion of my own. I don’t take kindly to thieves.
And so I sleep easy tonight, in hopes that a red sun will rise on the local ‘coon population. I’ll update this blog once I find success.