As many of you who read this little scrap of writing know, I live in the blessed, quiet, beautiful country. I love the peace and solitude it affords us. The wide open spaces give us room to grow and have animals. We have a few too. And… we have a few we didn’t ask for.
He is a raccoon. He visits at night sneaking bites of any remaining cat food. He’s not stupid. He knows where the bread is buttered.
His problem is he can’t out smart C-Man. We have a trap waiting… always.
If we didn’t, the rascal would surely get into my chickens. I love my chickens and have no desire to share them with Rocky the raccoon.
He pleasures himself during his long wait for the trip to our neighbor’s, who will transplant him to a far away wood, by performing acrobatic feats inside this fairly large cage.
Silly thing is suspended by a bar at the top. He gets himself out of it just fine, but he is entertaining to watch in the mean time.
One last, long look into those dark, beady eyes.
He isn’t happy about being in there. His ears are flattened to his head and he was hissing at me. What would you do if you had some strange woman looking at you with a black thing in front of her face?
He is sort of cute, but they can be dangerous.
Thanks for dropping into visit my little piece of heaven. Now it truly is, because my chickens are safe.