Let me set the stage....
We bought a nice little Charbroil grill for VT; so no more using the smoker as a grill. We cooked up some nice burgers on it Saturday night. We did a lot of work around the house yesterday; moved rocks, I restacked a good cord+ of wood, did some landscaping. So last night, we're ready to have a nice dinner, then come back to CT.
Just as my wife is removing the grilled veggies from the grill (which came from Walker Farms...great local stuff!) I see a raccoon walking across our backyard. Mind you, it's 6ish last night...and still really bright out. He's got something around his mouth..."Is that foam?" Nope, procupine quils. So we do what any good flatlanders would do...we start making noise...and I throw ice cubes at it. We're up on the deck, so he can't really do anything if he gets pissed off. Despite all our yelling and my cube tossing, he acts uneffected and stumbles around.
At this point, I see a neighbor one house over from us looking at us. I can only imagine what he's thinking. I know he can't see the raccoon, but he can see us waving our hands, me throwing something and us both yelling like idiots. He's from CT too, so at least he wasn't thinking: "Stupid flandlanders..."
So Mr. Raccoon hobbles up the side of the foundation and starts eating my ice cubes. WTF! That wasn't part of the plan! He makes his way to the front of the house..and under the front porch (which is basically a really small deck). I grab a plank I had laying in the kitchen and started banging the hell out of the front porch. The little bastard didn't budge..he kept on walking. He comes around front to the steps, looks at me and I'm banging the crap out of my porch. Nothing. Then the mother f-er starts chewing on my work boots. "You mother f-er!" Those are my good boots!" Now I'm pissed. My wife is fired up because this thing has curtailed dinner and I'm cranked because he's eating my boots.
At this point, I was really po'd that I didn't have some sort of firearm to take care of this situation in short order. This thing is obviously rabid (he's stumbling around) and now he's damaging my property. My wife is telling me to call 911...I tell her this isn't a 911 situation...it's one of those grey areas where it's important, but not a huge emergency.
So I call the State Police in Brattleboro. Nice lady answers, asks me some questions then: "Do you have a way to take him down?" "No, that's why I had to call you." She says she'll call me back. Which she does. Fast forward another 15 minutes and a game warden from the state shows up. Mr. Raccoon of course has lost interest in my boots and wondered off. He only took a small chunk out of them. But I'm not using those with his rabies nasties all over them. Damn you!
The game warden and I look around a bit and I pointed to where he wandered off. The guy gets out a nice stainless Ruger 10/22 and walks across the road in to the tall grass. 2 minues later, "crack!" He got him. One less rabid animal roaming the streets of Dummerston!
The guy was really cool. I asked him what I can do if this happens again and if I had something to use myself. "I would have just told you to shoot him..." So we chalked this one up to experience and I'll be making sure that I can take care of this myself next time.
I'm glad the guy found him. As we were leaving, we saw people down the street who were having an outdoor party with a bunch of kids. And a girl walking her dog.
We bought a nice little Charbroil grill for VT; so no more using the smoker as a grill. We cooked up some nice burgers on it Saturday night. We did a lot of work around the house yesterday; moved rocks, I restacked a good cord+ of wood, did some landscaping. So last night, we're ready to have a nice dinner, then come back to CT.
Just as my wife is removing the grilled veggies from the grill (which came from Walker Farms...great local stuff!) I see a raccoon walking across our backyard. Mind you, it's 6ish last night...and still really bright out. He's got something around his mouth..."Is that foam?" Nope, procupine quils. So we do what any good flatlanders would do...we start making noise...and I throw ice cubes at it. We're up on the deck, so he can't really do anything if he gets pissed off. Despite all our yelling and my cube tossing, he acts uneffected and stumbles around.
At this point, I see a neighbor one house over from us looking at us. I can only imagine what he's thinking. I know he can't see the raccoon, but he can see us waving our hands, me throwing something and us both yelling like idiots. He's from CT too, so at least he wasn't thinking: "Stupid flandlanders..."
So Mr. Raccoon hobbles up the side of the foundation and starts eating my ice cubes. WTF! That wasn't part of the plan! He makes his way to the front of the house..and under the front porch (which is basically a really small deck). I grab a plank I had laying in the kitchen and started banging the hell out of the front porch. The little bastard didn't budge..he kept on walking. He comes around front to the steps, looks at me and I'm banging the crap out of my porch. Nothing. Then the mother f-er starts chewing on my work boots. "You mother f-er!" Those are my good boots!" Now I'm pissed. My wife is fired up because this thing has curtailed dinner and I'm cranked because he's eating my boots.
At this point, I was really po'd that I didn't have some sort of firearm to take care of this situation in short order. This thing is obviously rabid (he's stumbling around) and now he's damaging my property. My wife is telling me to call 911...I tell her this isn't a 911 situation...it's one of those grey areas where it's important, but not a huge emergency.
So I call the State Police in Brattleboro. Nice lady answers, asks me some questions then: "Do you have a way to take him down?" "No, that's why I had to call you." She says she'll call me back. Which she does. Fast forward another 15 minutes and a game warden from the state shows up. Mr. Raccoon of course has lost interest in my boots and wondered off. He only took a small chunk out of them. But I'm not using those with his rabies nasties all over them. Damn you!
The game warden and I look around a bit and I pointed to where he wandered off. The guy gets out a nice stainless Ruger 10/22 and walks across the road in to the tall grass. 2 minues later, "crack!" He got him. One less rabid animal roaming the streets of Dummerston!
The guy was really cool. I asked him what I can do if this happens again and if I had something to use myself. "I would have just told you to shoot him..." So we chalked this one up to experience and I'll be making sure that I can take care of this myself next time.
I'm glad the guy found him. As we were leaving, we saw people down the street who were having an outdoor party with a bunch of kids. And a girl walking her dog.
