|
I used to keep a five-gallon bucket with hen-scratch on the front porch, scattering a small coffee can's worth for the quail, doves, rock squirrels and antelope squirrels. The raccoons wandered up from down at the creek and found the bucket.
Okay, so a steel plate on top of the lid, and an old mercury flask on top of that. A screw-in hook on the wall to hold the bail of the bucket. 3AM: Clank! Yup, Rakkity Coon. So, I wandered out and threw a squalling fit and that kept him gone for several days.
Drove home one night, and there, sticking up out of the bucket was the back half of Mr. Coon. He sat back, looked at us in great indignation for disturbing him, and then went back to his supper.
Okay, so fun and games is fun and games, but the bucket now lives inside.
Fast forward: Those plastic buckets make great mouse traps; with grain in the bottom they jump in--but the sides are too slick for them to get out. Once again with a screw-in hook, and the bucket then a couple of feet off the back porch deck.
Noises. A peek out the window shows Mr. and Mrs. Rakkity and the three coon kids. I set up for fun and games. One of the young ones gets nose-down in the bucket. I sneak out onto the porch, and the other four waddle away.
When a 3/4-grown coon is nose-down in a bucket, and you slap him on the rump and scream very loudly, he attempts vertical levitation by paw-stand. Doesn't work worth a hoot. He at least got turned around in time to get slapped on the nose. I backed away and let him practice being elsewhere at a high rate of speed.
Raccoons are fun. Hours of entertainment!
|