Yesterday afternoon, I loosened the garden box soil.
This afternoon, I planted early season seeds; and onion transplants.
Just before I started planting snow-peas, I happened to glance up at the sky … and saw a cloud formation sporting a mohawk, and a hooked nose. I laughed, because it resembled my stepfather – who is a Skagit Indian (a Washington Native).
A sign the natives are getting restless – and the restlessness across this Land goes beyond the State Natives … we are living in dangerous days, in America: America, since 2009, has become a racial tinderbox: being fanned into a racial inferno with the incendiary demonrat rhetoric.
Half of America’s population is on the war path; egged on by the obamanites.
There are signs everywhere (even in the clouds, now) that we are living in dangerous days.
When planting seeds today – I used a cupcake pan; and a short, marked bamboo stake (marked 1/8-inch to 1-inch segments).
The red markings are sign of seed depth needed for various seedings.
Finished with seeding and transplanting what could safely be placed in the garden area this afternoon, I was gathering my gardening tools to be placed into the shed … and noticed the moon showing in the warm, blue Spring sky overhead.
A clear sign it was definitely time to call it a day (as far as planting went): daylight was waning.
As I was watering my garden boxes, and came to the halfway point … I noticed a large hole had been dug under the skirting of my home.
Then I remembered my next-door-neighbor had told me earlier that she had heard noises between our lots last night (I had too, but couldn’t figure out what it was); she had gone outside armed with a baseball bat … and saw a racoon digging in my lot rock (I have lava rock & river rock laid down). We laughed, and I didn’t think too much about it – UNTIL I saw the large hole dug out under the skirting of the back bedroom.
Sign that the gray furred bandit had staked out my home as its home.
I closed the hole up again with the dug-out-rock and mud refuse.
I didn’t know if it was still under the house … or if it had vacated and would return tonight. Either way, I didn’t want the hole wide open: anything could utilize it.
A racoon under the house is bad enough: a rat or opossum would be worse.
Oh, the joys of home ownership.
I immediately started thinking of the damage the racoon could do if under the house. I am a country gal, even though I now live on the outskirts of the city; I am familiar with racoons – and I know they will not leave on their own. And if it’s a mama racoon looking for a place to give birth, the chaos and destruction will multiply.
It wasn’t funny anymore: if that masked rascal had taken up residence under my house, it could do a lot of damage … and would be a snarly freeloading vagrant hard to evict!
It can’t stay.
My mind was screaming, “BOOOOOOOOOOB!”
What would he do?
How would he handle the situation?
We have had racoons on our country properties.
We have had racoons in our country trees.
We have had racoons crossing our properties.
But we have never had a racoon under our homes.
This was an unfamiliar situation.
I needed Bob: I wanted Bob.
And Bob is permanently unavailable.
This thorny homeowner’s problem rests solely on my shoulders, now.
It was up to me to figure it out; and handle
it.
I asked friends for help.
I got good suggestions: I have good friends 😊
Lean On Me song: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jrlhn1H1EWw)
I dug out
the phone book and thumbed through it, looking for a local pest
control company that would know how to handle a racoon issue.
I found
one – and the fella who answered the call told me I did the right thing by
refilling the hole. He said, “if the refill is wide open in the morning, then
we know it’s residing under your house. And I will come out there and set up a
trap for it, and remove it for you. You did the right thing; this way the
situation can be monitored to see what action needs to be taken.” That sounds good,
to me; I am sure it is under the house – it didn’t dig that big hole because
it had nothing else to do last night.
It is boldly staking a claim.
And I am boldly taking action.
I want it gone before it tears up the underside of the house.
Racoons are cute, but they are trouble; they are called “bandits” for a reason that goes far beyond the mask they are born with.
I inspected the skirting around the house, and there doesn’t seem to be any damages; but if it causes damages during its nocturnal escape later tonight, my Home Owner’s Insurance should cover that.
There is never a dull moment
around here …
