The Bandit

A few weeks ago Steve went to make himself a peanut butter sandwich and couldn't find the bread.

"It should be right here," I said, looking on the middle shelf of the stainless steel wire shelves, but it was not there. We both looked all over for it. Zippo. Then I remembered having seen something out of place in the yard.

The masons had started work on our chimney. They came with a huge (special-built) fifth wheel trailer bearing scaffolding, wheelbarrows, the brick, of course, about a million five-gallon buckets, and many assorted tools. It was in the midst of all that working-mess that I had seen something that didn't quite belong.

I went outside and looked, and sure enough, it was the plastic bag that used to house the bread we were looking for. It was torn (as well as empty) and we suspected a stray dog. We figured this was why both cats had crowded into bed with me the night before.

We have made it a point since we've been here to put any and all food trash in the big dumpster anyway, an idea reinforced when the bread disappeared. After that happened we took to setting anything we thought might be attractive in that way to a foraging critter way up high.

Next thing was I couldn't find was a bag of home-grown vine-ripened tomatoes that I had harvested, which I had set up on a shelf about waist high. We figured that must've been an omniverous raccoon. Grrr.

Then one night we'd been some-I-don't-remember-where and got home after dark. When we came in I noticed that a stack of paper plates and the plastic forks and spoons on the floor. These had been on top of the water cooler, about six feet up. The loaf of bread that had been with them was gone, along with a banana. With all that had also been a plastic clamshell box of oatmeal raisin cookies, which was laying on the floor. Hmph. Had to be a raccoon. Only thing we couldn't figure out was why the little booger didn't take the cookies. Maybe our return home interrupted the burglary?

I took me a flashlight right out to the toolshed right then and got the havahart trap. Our dilema in setting that trap is making it attractive to our intinded "prey," yet it be something that our own cats will leave alone. We decided to set this one with rest of the cookies.

We didn't miss the coffee canister until the next morning.

Yes, whatever climbed up, knocked our paper plates and plastic ware off the top of the water cooler and took another loaf of bread and a banana had carried off our coffee canister!

Certain this must be a raccoon (and trying to imagine what in heaven's name a raccoon wants with a canister of coffee) I searched the brush behind the house. Sure enough, there was our red plastic Folgers coffee canister at the base of a sweetgum tree. I surveyed the setting pretty thoroughly for any presence of poison ivy and made my way through the brush and retrieved the coffee. The only damage was a small series of pinhole tooth marks in the lid. Either he couldn't get the lid off, or maybe after he poked the holes in it decided it didn't smell as good as he thought it would. We got our coffee back though.

I checked the trap and something got the cookies without springing the trap. Just a few little crumbs left that had fallen through the cage bars was all that was left. I left the trap where it was because I planned to bait it again.

Night before last a noise awoke me. I cicn't know what noise it was that woke me, but upon awakening I heard a rythmic metalic tapping sound, like someone was fiddling with something downstairs. I grabbed a flashlight and went downstairs, cats at my heels.

Couldn't see anything untowards, and tried to triangulate in on where the sound was coming from, but sound carries differently in this A-frame. I intuitioned that perhaps something was fooling with the havahart trap. I shone the flashlight over that way, and guess what? There he was, the masked bandit raccoon. He had gone in there to try to dig those cookie crumbs out from under and between the cage grid and got himself good and trapped. I slept very well the rest of the night!

Next morning Steve moved him across the yard where he would be out of the way and in the shade, and I called Animal Control. Our New Hero and Favorite Animal Control Officer Kim came out and said, "Yes, we do have a relocation program," and took the raccoon away. When she brought our cage back she said, "I opened that door and he ran like a bandit!"

...Like the bandit he is! ..Steal my coffee... I don't think so!

August Already!

I cannot believe it's been a month and a half since I last posted! We have been busy, busy, busy, though. The house is coming along, the garden is coming along, complications arise and are ironed out, dealt with, or worked around.

Grandmother accused me (probably more than once) of telling everything I know, but some things I will wait to report to the Whole Wide World until the fat lady sings, as they say. In some cases, for similar reasons a pitcher doesn't talk about a no-hitter-in-progress, in other cases - ah - more along the lines of the fifth amendment.

Here's what I can tell you.

It's August and, Baby, it's HOT. I checked the weather earlier this week and the five day forecast said Sunny and Hundred degree high temps for each day of the forecast.

The masons, Tom and his son Tommy, have built us a beautiful chimney (pictures later).

The garden is exploding, along with the population of cowpea aphids (accursed vermin!) and some creepy black bugs with pointed butts and orange or red markings that make them look scary that are eating my tomato leaves, beet greens and swiss chard leaves down to the ribs. I thought they were blister bugs, but they might be something else. I despise the ugly things, though, and smash them every chance I get.

Progress continues on our house. Steve has accomplished an unbelievable amount of work almost entirely by himself, but we are far from done. Plans are in the works to get him some help so we can get enclosed before cold weather arrives in Central Oklahoma. Yes, all my northern friends, I know - after having lived seven years in central New York, "cold" is a relative term, but something resembling winter will visit us in a few months and we need to be ready, so we are working on getting some help and a way to pay them.

My online venues' hearts are still beating, but their pulses are a little weaker than I prefer. The host for my main store, EightSusquehanna.com, migrated to a new server, which will be great once I learn all the new tricks. I think everyone can find it okay, but some things behind the scenes have changed, so I have more things to learn. My eBay store sells well enough that my inventory there is getting pretty skinny. I hope to make a couple days in the near future to evaluate and restock both inventories.

We brought the cats, Muffin and Cookie, out here a couple weeks ago and both their countenances improved immediately. Seems like they remember the place and are happy to be here. They spend their days who-knows-where and materialize at the sound of my voice in conversation or at the far end of the garden where the Catnip grows, or at dusk when we feed and retire for the night. The Mighty Muffin has become our Brave Protector, warding off would-be trespassers of the feline persuasion. What a guy, that Muffin!

Unfortunately, before he came out here we were graced by the darting presence of a painfully skinny, pregnant, half-grown kitty. Believing her to be the last of the strays the former tenant left behind, I attempted to seduce her into captivity with the idea of turning her over to Animal Control. A smart one, she was, and would not be tricked into any box or cage. She finally allowed herself to be petted if one had food and I took the opportunity to pick her up. Big mistake. She turned into a little tornado of a cat, all claws and teeth. She had her teeth in the heel of my left hand when I dropped her into a pet carrier, much less graciously than I had intended. Now we await the results of rabies testing. Kids, when your parents and teachers say, "Never touch a wild animal or any animal you don't know," they are not kidding, so pay attention.

What else? I go into town about every other day and wash the laundry and bring it back out here to the place and hang it on the line. In this heat it dries almost before I'm done hanging it! It's a practical and somewhat romantic throwback to my youth when it was common to see clothes hanging on a line to dry. I'm having the time of my life.

I'm learning about the plants that grow here, and about the symbiosis and pattern of life here. For instance, we have many plants here whose presence is indicative of acid soil. We had blossom end rot in some (but not all) of our tomatoes, which is indicative of low calcium in the soil, which is another symptom of acid soil. But we have "high" levels of calcium in our well water - so what happens is that the acid soil causes the calcium to wash out of the soil and into the water table. I figured that out all by myself.

Some mornings before light we can look outside and see deer in the yard. In the dark of dawn or dusk we are likely to see rabbits, who are probably the little dickenses who are eating my tomatoes before I get to them.

Priorities have not yet lent themselves to figuring out how to get television out here since all the stations have now gone digital, but we sure do get that Sirius Radio signal! We like the Deep Tracks station (Sirius 16) quite a bit. Jethro Tull, Little Feat, Leon Russell, to name only three of hundreds. It's great!

This has been something of a stream-of-consciousness post. The longer I sit at the keyboard, the more things I think of to tell you, but we'll leave some for next time. This post is long enough. Thanks for reading!