Don’t mess with the raccoon
December 8, 2008 by cynthia
When I moved to glassland I learned many astonishing things about glass, life on a corporate cubicle farm and being at one with Nature. Nature, apparently, also learned to be at one with me, at least when it came to raccoons. More specifically, Nature went out of her way to explain that the cute, cuddly little bandits of my favorite animated fantasies were just that: Fantasies.
Now, Nature and I have had an uneasy relationship ever since my last camping trip. I was 16, we were ‘way into the Sierra backwoods at church camp and our counselor had never so much as zipped a tent flap. Naturally, she had us make camp atop a large nest of carpenter ants.
That night I slept deeply, tucked into my down-filled sleeping coccoon under the stars. Apparently around 1AM my ear itched and I sleepily inserted a finger to scratch. ZZZZZZAP–the ant in my ear bit so hard she drew blood. I howled and scrambled upright, disturbing the legions of ants sharing my sleeping bag. They attacked.
I literally ripped out of the bag, screaming and swiping at angry ants, and bolted for the river. The noise awoke not only the camp, but the ranger’s station over the rise. Supposing that a camper had been attacked by a bear, they grabbed flashlights, loaded up their rifles and came running. When they found me, I was still in the river, yelling my head off.
The bright lights startled me into silence, and at about that moment I realized that I was naked in front of 50-plus campers and rangers (I was going through a rebellious no-pajamas phase) and also that I was freezing to death in the snowmelt water. The camp leader clucked disapprovingly but came forward with a coat. I slept in the supply tent for the rest of the trip, armed with bug spray.
I’ve had exactly zero urge to experience the wilderness again.
Wilderness, however, likes to experience me, and when I rented a house in glassland it came right up to the back door. I had been setting out dishes of food for feral cats in the neighborhood…and that brought the raccoons.
About a month after we’d moved in my cat Rajah had commenced his “come inside and fight like a cat” war cries in the wee hours, so I knew there was something outside. I had an early flight to catch one morning and was in the shower around 4AM when I heard Rajah shrieking. I grabbed a towel, dashed to the back door where Rajah was lunging at the glass. I looked out, dripping, and saw a shadow moving across the deck.
It was too ungainly for a dog, too big to be a cat. In fact, it looked more like a large bear cub than anything else. I flicked on the deck lights and there was the biggest raccoon I’d ever seen. He was at least thigh-high, with paws not much smaller than my own hands.
Whoa.
He casually glanced at me, and went back to eating cat food. A fellow this big probably also wouldn’t mind chowing down on the cats, so I figured it was best to scare him off. I tapped on the glass door: “Shooo!”
He didn’t even look up. I rapped a bit harder. “Hey!!!! Scram!!!!!” He ignored me. I really BANGED on the glass. “GO HOME!!!!!!!!!”
Nothing. So I opened the door, put a bare foot outside and stomped it on the deck. “GET OUT OF HERE! SHOO!!!” I shouted. The raccoon looked over and–I swear–rolled his eyes. Then he clambered up on my brand new teak lounge chair and settled in.
That did it. I grabbed up an ornamental broom sitting by the door and stomped out onto the deck. The towel I’d been wearing slid off but I was too annoyed to care. “GET OUT!!!!” I yelled, in my best basso profundo, and raised the broom to wallop the interloper, remind him that he was more afraid of me than I of him.
Right then, the raccoon yawned. I noticed for the first time that, for a raccoon, he wasn’t all that cute. And if there was something he was afraid of, it sure as heck wasn’t me. Also that his yawn revealed very large, sharp-looking yellow fangs.
Tusks, really.
The raccoon watched me a moment, and slowly gathered himself. A headline began playing in the back of my mind: “NAKED WOMAN FOUND SAVAGED BY IRRITATED RACCOON”
“Enjoy your breakfast,” I mumbled, and beat a hasty retreat. And the next time I encounter wilderness, it’s gonna be with some clothes on.
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fantastic story!
Hysterical. Those raccoons are not the nice little ‘beasties’ that one thinks. A friend had one chase her when she sprayed it with water to get it off her deck. Thank goodness the one in your teak chair didn’t try to come after you.
Thanks for sharing.