I am currently engaged in an epic struggle with a raccoon
I am currently engaged in an epic struggle with a raccoon, and I am determined to emerge from this fight as the victor.
The nature of the conflict is simple enough. The raccoon thinks my chimney is its home. I, on the other hand, am determined to evict this little S.O.B. as soon as possible.
It all began a few weeks ago when we noticed sounds in our bedroom wall. I assumed we had a rat in the attic and contacted a pest control expert in our town, who also happens to be a fascinating person in his own right. But that’s another story.
Anyway, L. advised me to check the exterior of the home for openings and put poison in the attic. I know that many of you are going to write and tell me that poisoning is no good because the rats die in the wall. I know about that, but L. assured me that the only way to be rid of a rat infestation is to close up the house and kill them all. “Trapping is an endless task,” he said. “You end up harvesting the dumb ones. Hopefully they will die in the attic. If they die in the wall, they just die in the wall. It will smell bad for two weeks and then you’re done.”
L. sealed up all the weep holes in the masonry and inspected the house. It’s a tight house so there really weren’t many ways in. Then he dropped the poison in the attic, and we were done.
After L. left, I went up on the roof to inspect the area around my chimney. A lot of the noises were coming from the wall around the chimney, so I thought I’d just see what I could see. Most chimneys around here are made of metal and covered with a wooden skin that sits about 6-inches away from the metal. There's a lot of wall space between the outer skin and the actual chimney, especially down at the bottom.
I found a football-sized hold on the back of the chimney, right where the wooden skin meets the shingles.
“That ain’t no rat hole,” I said.
I was right. That evening my wife and daughters saw the raccoon on the roof just before he disappeared into the hole. They said he was adorable.
Yeah, well he’s not so adorable three days later.
The first night
On the advice of L., I waited until after midnight, when this little guy was out foraging, then I sealed up his hole by nailing short lengths of boards over it. The plan was that he would come back to his hole, find it sealed and move on to some other, more convenient, location.
About 4:30 am, I was awakened by what sounded like a grown man pounding on my chimney. The sheer force and rage behind this sound was unbelievable and frightening. I heard wood splitting and then the unmistakable sound of a large animal crawling down the inside of my bedroom wall.
I went up to the roof when the sun came up and found that the cute little raccoon had ripped the boards off the hole with his cute little raccoon paws. It was like The Incredible Hulk had been on my roof. Boards were gnawed and split and laying all over the place. My irritation and respect doubled in an instant.
The second night and the first part of the third night
I arose again after midnight and resealed the hole. This time I used my drill and anchored the boards with 3-inch woodscrews. I liked the way it felt when the drill drove them home.
“Take that, you little bastard,” I said, chuckling. My wife asked if I had taken care of it. “Absolutely,” I said. "When he comes back after foraging tonight, he’s going to find that he’s no longer welcome.”
We heard nothing more that night or during the next day, and I thought the matter was solved until about 9 pm on the third night. Suddenly the chimney exploded with the now familiar sound of raccoon violence. I rushed to the roof and found that the boards held, but I had sealed him IN the chimney. This lazy-ass raccoon had taken a night off and slept in.
Cursing, I got my drill, took the boards off, and ran for my life. You see, everything I know about wild animals I learned from "The Simpsons." And what I know is that every time Homer gets close to a raccoon, he ends up with a snarling ball of fur on his head. This raccoon sounded mad as hell, and I didn’t want to be anywhere near that opening when he came out.
I hid on the other side of the pitch of the roof. After about 15 minutes, he came out, looked around a bit, then shimmied neatly down a tree and went out for his usual night on the town. Snickering, I slipped over to the hole and screwed the boards back on. Tight. Real tight. I screwed another board across all the others, just to make sure.
“I got you, you sonuvabitch. I know you’re out, and you can’t get back in. Time to find a new place to live.”
Coming next: The unbelievable nightmare of the third night and what the “Wild Animal Rescue” people told me.
rlp
3:23:54 PM 
|
