Now, down to twelve chickens, we decided enough was enough. Something had to be done! The chickens all happened to miraculously be in the coop at once, so Jeremy quickly locked them inside. Then, having given up on the idea of making our own raccoon trap, he caved and bought one from the feed store, while I went to the local plaid pantry and picked up the ‘stinkiest’ wet cat food I could find.
That night, we set and baited the trap, then waited anxiously for morning. Early the next day, as the sun was rising, I woke up (Jeremy wakes up early so he’d already been up for a while).
“Did we catch anything?” I asked him.
“We caught something. I just can’t tell what it is.”
I ran to the window like a kid runs to the tree on Christmas morning to see what Santa’s left. And sure enough, dimly visible through the early morning light there was something black and white inside. Oh joy! Finally, we’ve done it!
As the sun progressed behind the hill, I squinted at the trap. Aside from the coloring, the thing inside looked too small to be a raccoon. Plus, it didn’t have the telltale mask over its eyes. Actually, its stance suggested something much more feline.
“Ummm…it looks like a cat.” I told my husband, who was now standing next to me, coffee mug in hand.
Sure enough, it was! We’d caught one of the wild cats in the area. This particular wild cat had been coming into our groffice (a mix of garage and office), and had been starting fights with our Orange cat (yes, orange is his name, guess what kind of cat he is), and eating his food. Plus, this cat has had several litters in the past year alone—not Orange, the other one.
Deflated, I stared at the stupid cat, now soaking wet from having been sitting in the trap, in the rain for lord knows how long.
“Should we shoot it?” Jeremy asked, putting on his best hick accent.
Stupid cat. And no, for those animal rights activists who are wondering… we didn’t shoot it. We weren’t out to do the country folk a favor by killing all of the wild neighborhood cats, so we decided to let the thing go. Thanks to our mercy, she will live to procreate another day.
Note: If you ever set out to catch a raccoon, and end up catching a wild cat, don’t shoot it, and don’t let it go. Take it to the humane society for crying out loud! Sigh…this last thought didn’t occur to us until around lunch time.
Well, at least it was the same color as the raccoon. Plus, for the first time in weeks, we didn't lose even one chicken that night, hurray! That’s a start, right? RIGHT?
What’s your advice on how to catch a killer raccoon?
