Man v. Raccoon

We had our second visit in two weeks from a raccoon last night (click here to see me in action after the first one). At 3:55 A.M. Hannah and I were jolted awake by a horrific squawking and loud commotion from the hen house. Without thinking, I grabbed my glasses and sprinted to the back yard in my boxers, grabbing a broomstick on the way. Floodlights revealed feathers flying everywhere and a grey and black raccoon dancing with my hens. Hannah was yelling at it from the window as I hurdled through the fence, broomstick first. I halted my progress briefly as I remembered a recent discussion on a urban poultry list about how a guy got bitten and scratched up pretty badly by a 'coon, but then I plunged ahead anyway and took a good whack at it. As it scaled the fence to get out, I hurled the stick at it.

Then it was all jitters and pounding heart as I corralled the thoroughly freaked-out hens back into their coop and checked them over for wounds. No problems this time, but the feather carnage was impressive. I think hens must shed their feathers to distract a predator, and I also think that they have learned to get my attention pretty effectively. Their collective commotion has gotten better over time (this is the fourth or fifth time I've been out for a midnight rescue.) I think I finally fell back asleep for a little while around 5:30.

I thought I had locked them up, but apparantly I forgot. The routine is so repetitive that sometimes it's easy to forget. Once again, I renew my resolve to always make sure they're locked up at night...