Errett.com

I hope you have your morning coffee / beer ready because I have a lengthy tale of my harrowing combat with some of nature’s most evil creatures.  No, I don’t mean door to door solicitors, this story involves the other kind of crook, the Raccoon.

So Texas has enjoyed a “cold front” recently where highs have been reaching the 90′s instead of the 100′s.  The nights have been correspondingly cooler, around 60-70.  We even had a few nights of upper 50′s (which results in the windows automatically opening at my house).

I’ve insulated my garage quite a bit and Shannon even bought me a portable A/C for when I’m out there woodworking.  I noticed that the garage was retaining a fair amount of heat overnight even if it dropped to the 60′s outside.  So I decided to crack the garage door to the first setting and lock it in place.  I can do this because I don’t have a garage door opener.  I always meant to get one of these cool ones but never had the chance.  So I just open and close it manually and can lock into position to keep out the vandals.  But apparently only the 2-legged kind.

So the door has been open for a while and last Sunday Shannon heads into the garage to get a beverage and she yells.  On the other side of the garage was a raccoon which when she turned on the hellishly bright garage lights and shrieked, he bolted.  I asked her, “Are you sure he left?”  She said “yes” so I looked around myself, didn’t see anything and then closed the garage door to keep him out.

All has been quiet since then but I did notice a few things out of place.  Like this box that had it’s contents spilled on the floor.  While I might not put something back right away, it’s not like me to leave things on the floor.  Nothing else seems wrong so I don’t pay it much attention and chalk it up to either PD or one of the darling children.

So last night I’m sitting on the couch reading “A Storm of Swords ” and I hear a crash in the garage.  And it’s not one of those random little things that happen from time to time.  No, this was deliberate and malevolent.  Understanding that my helpless family is mostly likely under attack by nature’s thieves I grab my air pistol and head out to the garage.  Below is a summary of the evening.  Since our family site is PG and I haven’t launched the rated R, “Chronicles of Stubb” yet, I’ll substitute certain words for cleaner ones.

10:35 pm

With air pistol in hand I cautiously open the door in the event the one of the little, er, froggers is right by the door.  I have no desire to end up in the ER getting rabies shots.  The first thing I notice is the smell.  It’s not overpowering but it’s the definite smell of some kind of critter.  It has a thick, musk scent.  I silently count my blessings it’s not a skunk.  I flick on the lights and don’t hear or see anything.  Following standard SWAT procedure and identifying my corner, clearing the corner and proceeding to the next, I immediately look to my left.   I’ve included a layout of my garage and the various boxes are either worktables or large power tools mounted on rolling carts. I’ve highlighted important things in blue, such as the TV up on the wall or the liquor we keep on a wire rack.

And what do I see behind the TV, none other than one of the evil ones.  I have my pistol lined up on his greedy little eyes but then all of the various females I know are sitting on my shoulder talking to me.  “Chris! Why did you have to shoot it?  They’re so cute.  He was probably more scared of you and wouldn’t hurt you at all. “  I think on it a bit more and if I kill it up there I’d have to go dig out the body, clean up the blood, etc.  So I get a broom and open the garage door so he has a clear and obvious exit.  Once I poke at it the raccoon immediately bolts for the outside and think how happy my female acquaintances will be that I didn’t kill it.  So I close the garage door, turn off the light and go back inside.

11:27

After returning to my reading I then hear another crash.  Another one?  You gotta be skimming me.  OK, my patience is starting to wear thin and the female angels on my shoulder are getting fainter.  I gather my pistol and this time I also bring my magnum air rifle .  I open the door, turn on the lights and look to my left again.  There is another one by the TV.  Crikey!  So I open the garage door, get the broom +1 and poke at him.  Well, this one must have been a male because he just sits there.  I jab him again and then he does this cat-like hiss.  That’s it, he’s going to be headgear.  I consider that it might be a female and there might be a nest with little headgears present so I double check and don’t see anything.  Apparently raccoons just like TV.  I give him one last chance and poke at him again and this time he decides to flee.  Now since I have so many workbenches and tables in my garage it’s like a froggin maze in there.  I assume that they’ve left but it seems I’ve misunderstood the stupidity of raccoons.  Any other critter I’ve seen that is confronted by man typically runs.  Especially if the man in question has been working out.  So I figure they’re gone, close the garage door, turn out the light and go back into the house.  Maybe 5 minutes past and I hear another crash.  Those little froggin airheads!  So I get PD’s leash.   I figure the fearsome appearance of a cute mutt will scare them back into the wild and out of the extremely bright land of booze and power tools.  Back into the garage I go and we don’t see any of them.  OK, back inside.

12:17 am

Boom, crash, whatever could that be?  I go back out there (without PD) and one of them is on my booze  He’s on the top shelf and is clearly after my spirits.  I don’t recall inviting any disease-bearing vermin over to my house for a drink so now it’s go-time.  He sprints off and I fire the pistol.  Already I can hear the shrieks of “No!” from our female readers.  Just to let you know the why I shot it (as if I needed any more reason once he touched my hooch) I’ll give you some background on my pistol.  Its muzzle velocity is rated to about 550 fps firing a .177 hollow-point pellet weighing around 7.1 grains.  That’s only going to have a kinetic energy of 5.7 ft lbs so any hits to the body will be non-lethal as it won’t have the energy to pentrate the fur and damage any internal organs.  A head shot is a different story, but I just wanted them gone so I figure a shot in their nasty little hiney will get my point across.   So I shoot, he jumps,  and heads for the garage door.  But now the dumb-ice stops in the middle of the garage between the two tables and looks at me.  You gotta be skimming me.  So I reload the pistol and give him another thwack.  He moves, I assume he’s left the building, and after a quick scan of the room I close the garage door.  Now if learned anything so far is that these little froggers are exceptional at remaining perfectly still and it’s entirely possible both of them are still in here.   So I decide to leave a bit of a “test” to make sure they’re gone.  I go inside and get a “fun-size” Twix bar and open it up.  As an aside, what marketing genius thought that it’s more fun the less candy you get?   I’ll stick to the exceptionally boring size, thanks.

So I take a bite out of the extraordinarily exciting sized Twix, just to make sure he can smell it.  And to make sure it’s still good.  Don’t want the little frogger to get an upset stomach before I give him a headshot.  I leave it on a box on the floor and go back inside.

1:30 am

Knock, knock!  Who’s there?  Nature’s little froggers.  I go back into the garage and the candy bar is gone.  But I don’t see them.  I start poking around and looking under stuff and I find that one of the ice-heads knocked one of my bottles of gin into the trash.  That’s it.  Stubb’s getting a new hat.  So I’m determined to find the little froggers and start moving stuff around.  I see one of them under my wood storage rack on the far right wall.  I keep moving stuff and jabbing him with my rifle barrel.  He then decides to casually relocate to the other side of the garage.  I keep looking and see him back in the middle of the garage between the two tables.  Well, he didn’t seem to take my pistol seriously so it’s time for the big guns and I line up a shot with the magnum rifle.  Now this one has a little more kick and it might sting a bit.  I fire, he jumps and I think he’s gone.  I do a lot more searching and at this point it’s around 2:30 am and Shannon comes out into the garage.  She’s a bit groggy but I talk to her about the recent home invasion and how I’ve heroically saved the family.   I go get another mindblowingly-fun Twix, take a bite, leave it on the floor and head back inside.  I let her know that if the froggers return I’ll need her help.  Her job will be to stand on our front porch and confirm that they have actually run out once I start shooting my .357.    But it turns out the rest of the night is quiet and the next morning the Twix is still there.

Since I was in full-on combat mode and didn’t have any embedded journalists with me I don’t have any photos to add to the post.  But we all know that a picture is worth a thousand words so I came up with this artist’s conception of the night of evil.