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!