I have a raccoon in my attic. And it’s making. Me. Crazy.
According to the good people at 911Wildlife I have a raccoon who, based on dropping-age-analysis, appears to have chased off a previously residing possum who may have eaten or chased off previously residing rats. I have a veritable food chain of attic dwelling pests running around just above my head. At night. While I’m sleeping. Er, trying to sleep.
And so last Friday I officially launched Plan Ringtail to rid my home of this pesky invader. The plan works like this: get the critter out via a one-way door, if it has a litter of babies up there it will find another way back in, if it doesn’t then it’s gone for good. Then cover up the entry holes with dirt and sod. A brief view into my mind at this point: a raccoon tearing the siding off the house in the middle of the night to save its babies; waking from a troubled sleep believing that the lump of covers at the foot of the bed is a raccoon; opening the attic door to find a mother raccoon with a switchblade waiting to kill me. Tip of the iceberg my friends, tip of the iceberg.
Four and a half days in to Plan Ringtail and the evidence is maddeningly inconclusive. Maybe the raccoon left and dug its way back in the first night. So I covered up that hole. Nothing has happened since. Every little noise made anywhere within a 10 mile radius could be the raccoon in the attic. Was that the TV or the raccoon? Mute. Silence. Un-mute. Repeat. The good people at 911Wildlife are now sending me a video with audio of what baby raccoons sound like so that if I hear that sound, I’ll know they’re still up there.
As good as Plan Ringtail may be it is a flawed. And that flaw is based entirely on my cowardice. See, I want nothing at all, whatsoever, at any point in my life or afterlife to come face to face with any of the aforementioned attic dwelling pests. Dead or alive. And so Plan Ringtail is based on the logic of raccoon behavior. Now listen, if raccoon behavior was that damn logical do you really think they’d be living in attics and digging through trash cans for food? No! They’d be chasing my chicken-ass out of the house and working their way through the refrigerator. They’ve got switchblades for crying out loud! What we need here are facts. Cold, hard, observable facts.
Let me introduce you to the Planetcam Internet Motion-activated System. A live, secure window into my home from anywhere. We’re talking about a wireless PC transceiver, control center software, an Eagle Eye motion sensor, USB video capture cable (high res of course), a small video receiver (no audio), and an instant-on camera. $129.99. Hundreds of uses, tiny and discrete, easy to setup, and weather resistant.
I like the idea of ‘control center software’. Like I’m NASA or something keeping an eye on the Mars Rover. I am so close to hitting the “click to add to shopping cart” button that my hands are shaking. My wife would kill me.
But let’s get real. Imagine I do this and actually have the guts to go up in the attic and install this thing. Can you imagine the anxiety? Increasing exponentially with every minute that I’m up there? With every drip of sweat off my brow and slip of the screw driver? With every tree limb brushing against the roof? It would be such a complete study of a person going insane that it’s a pity the camera won’t be hooked up to capture it.
You know how this will turn out right? You’ve seen the video of the Loch Ness Monster? And Bigfoot? And the ensuing lifetime obsessions? That’s the road we’re headed down. Out damn raccoon! Out I say!
1 comment:
One terrier with a taste for blood and a .22 semi-auto. Try to hit the target and not the plumbing.
There is also the fox urine crystals scenario.
The kits are very cute and somewhat trainable, though they have a tendency to learn on their own. Such as learning how to open a 2 liter bottle of Coke. They don't seem to have mastered the concept of a cup, but they seem to be quite happy with splashing it on their hands and licking that wonderful elixir in that manner. Do not however take them fishing. They find the fishing line fascinating and extricating one from a tangled mess generally means more than a few scars for the rescuer.
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