Andree came into the room and told me that something had gotten into our grill...which is located right by our back door where we take the boys out to do their thing. Apparently the boys were having a wonderful time sniffing at whatever was in there and at one point Rinker (our golden...'too inquisitive for his own good') decided to stick his nose up into where the door had been opened. Fortunately two things were in play here or else I'd be writing a completely different story: one is that the cover for the grill was still on and limited the opening of the door and two, Andree had the good sense to yank his butt away from the grill before he could get in trouble.
I really didn't jump on this probably as fast as I should have and let some time go before I opted to check it out...actually I waited until I was letting the boys do their thing for the last time tonight to check it out. Well, when I did there definitely was something in the grill...so after I let the boys back into the house (that REALLY would have been interesting to say the least) I pulled up the cover and opened the door slowly to find...a mid-sized raccoon.
I have some experience with raccoons...the summer between my freshman and sophomore years in college I spent working in Yosemite trying to keep raccoons and brown bears away from people...which is a daunting challenge considering the average person that visits Yosemite thinks since it has the word "park" in the title that it's made of concrete (yes...I did get this question...more than once). So needless to say, I wasn't really upset nor surprised to see the little guy in there...I'm sure the chipotle chicken Andree made a few nights prior was pretty irresistible for him.
Anyway, I shook the grill a bit, hoping the little guy would scamper away. He did no such thing...in fact he started to try to crawl up into the actual burner area (was probably licking the drippings off of the bottom) and completely ignored anything I did, to the grill or not. So, since he wasn't going to leave on his own free will, I was going to help encourage his departure. I went and got the 4ft long handle for my floor jack and proceeded to nudge him a few times...just to make the point that he was not welcome in our grill anymore. Of course he started to get upset and I backed off...I didn't want to hurt the little guy...just to make it uncomfortable for him to remain in there.
Well after a couple of these poking sessions he got the point. I backed away and gave him plenty of space to leave on his own accord without feeling trapped. As he crawled out he seemed to be somewhat unsure of his footing...almost like he was severely dehydrated or deranged. Instead of bolting out of there, he casually walked over to one of the cement posts at the end of our back porch...and started to try and climb it! He tried and fell...tried again and fell...again and fell...finally he started to make it up to about eye level with me, though his journey up was pretty labored...I felt kind of sorry for the little guy. We stared at each other for a minute or two and I went ahead and secured the grill...hoping that he would sense I'm not an immediate threat and would retreat from being in such an uncomfortable situation (raccoons are not accustom to people unless a reason is there for them to be...and this must be something that is a constant...they are usually afraid of us unless extreme circumstances cause them to act against their fears).
Anyway he finally made it up to the top but couldn't go anywhere...sat there for a while, tried one side then the other, but had no luck. Ultimately he fell...then started back towards the wall again. Something was not right with this little guy...you'd figure that with my presence he'd take off. Well that didn't happen and I wasn't going to play around anymore...he needed to go and find shelter elsewhere. So I advanced a little and showed him the handle...to which he started to growl. I really, really didn't want to hurt it...
Well, one poke and he'd go to one side of the post...poke him on the other side of the post and he moved back to the original side. This went on for a few minutes...each poke getting a little more severe. I guess he had too much and started biting at the handle and lunging forward towards me. I took a step back and lowered the handle enough that it rested on the ground...he should have ran like hell. He didn't and tried for the post again...
One good 'clink' and it was all done. He is no longer...the last thing I expected was to be standing there cussing and saying "no, no, no...dammit no.." with my eyes full of tears! Why do I feel this way? I mean, when I was younger I had little to no problems shooting a pheasant or a rabbit or helping cleanse the local prairie-dog town gene pool (or 'target practice' as my dad would say).
I do know that I no longer pick up a gun unless I'm punching holes in targets...and even that is rare these days (though I do enjoy it). Instead I opt to pick up the camera and create my own 'trophy.' I can get meat at the local supermarket and I certainly think the pictures on the walls look much better than any stuffed mount. This is entirely my opinion (obviously) and I'm not making a stand against hunting by any stretch...I enjoyed it (well...at least the being outdoors and with my dad) when I was younger...I'm just using different tools to get the same results today. All I know is that tonight's events moved me enough to tears and now I feel terrible for taking what once was a living thing and reducing it to nothing. I don't know...Andree tells me that everything happens for a reason...and so far her track record is pretty good, I just don't know what this encounter is supposed to teach me in life other than I am human and I obviously care more than I realized. Who knows, maybe it was rabid or deranged (we did have a constant series of thunder storms roll through today and I'm sure being in that little metal box would be enough to drive anything a little batty) and I was meant to put it out of its misery before it hurt itself or...now I'm just grasping at air.
Anyway, I sincerely hope anyone that reads this isn't judging me too harsh...I just wish the little guy would have scampered away instead of opting to hang around.
Sincerely,
Bill
Brother, I can relate to your feelings, and wouldn't think of minimizing them in any way, but the way you described this creature's behavior and the prevelance of rabies in raccoons, I am confident that you not only did the poor beast a favor, you protected your family. There may be no other greater lesson to be learned here. And that's coming from a tree-hugging dirt worshipper!
ReplyDeleteAllow yourself to feel whatever remorse you might feel for a while, but don't hold on too long. One great lesson I've learned from life is that you may not get over such an event, but you have to get past it.
p.s. Oh, and clean your grill! ;)