The Angry Raccoon

Nocturnal visitors frequently show up in our barn to sample the menu. Just a few months back a fox nearly ran into me as he beat a hasty retreat.

Recently however, we’ve been visited by an especially persistent and resourceful guest. And, he’s developed a palate for other animal edibles.

He’s not a possum. Possums are too lazy. And he’s not a fox. Foxes are crafty but not especially dexterous. No, what we have here is a raccoon. A raccoon with an attitude. Who’s waging psychological warfare with me.

And who might be winning.

He recently started the skirmish by prying open the cat food bin and feasting on the bounty. This, I didn’t mind much until –whoops — he knocked it over, spilling cat kibble across the floor.

So I put the bin in the tack room and shut the door.

After that, he moved into the feed stall where he chewed a large hole in a bag of sweet feed.

So I dumped the feed into a storage bin with a lid.

That ticked him off a bit. So the next night he pried the lids off of the horse supplement containers and sampled his findings (undoubtedly, not very tasty but hey, that raccoon is parasite-free).

I sealed up the containers, closed the feed stall door and latched it shut.

Sunday night the raccoon caught the faint aroma of horse cookies, entombed in a garbage bag stuffed full of laundered horse blankets (the blanket cleaning lady tosses in a bag of treats with the bill). The raccoon chewed through the trash bag, waded through the blankets and gnawed into the oaty-molasses snacks….after dunking them thoroughly in the water dish (I found the soggy cookie remains.)

So I extracted the remaining cookies and socked them away on a high shelf.

Well, that was it. The raccoon was fed up. He wasn’t taking my crap anymore!

Last night he swung open the tack room door and squeezed through (in dairy barn-style, the door slides on top runners but swings loose below). He could have just pilfered the cat food and left, but no. He — was — enraged! He tossed the place, kicking empty cans off the fridge. He knocked down a riding hat and chewed up a sponge. He dumped over the grooming boxes and hurled the brushes and hoof picks across the room. Then, he tore the top off the cat food bin.

I got the message. He’s one pissed-off raccoon.

But frankly I don’t care. Every night our house looks like the scene of a toy store looting. You really think you can throw a few brushes around and scare me? Tonight I’m going to secure the tack room door with a concrete block and some paint cans.

Let’s see what you’ve got.