To snare the miscreant

Per my last post, I'd decided to defeat the miscreant who was snitching my twine by using the green elastic tape on my patio umbrella and to train the mandevilla to the arbor post. I set the game camera to record so I could know what was happening.

Precisely this: nothing. Not a nibble, not a bite. Either said miscreant, be it crow or raccoon, has left the vicinity, no longer needs my twine, or is waiting me out until I turn the camera off. So today, I tied twine about the umbrella. I did not remove the elastic tape, but I must admit to baiting the trap.

So far, it's animal world 2, Kay 0. I'm still hoping for a tie. Or at least not to be skunked.

Once again, I face a worthy opponent

It's not like I'm a stranger to this. For years, I've been at the mercy/beck'n'call of four-footed creatures. They either act like they own me (the cats and I suppose they do, as in "dogs have masters, cats have staff") or they trample all over my efforts to maintain some sort of decorum in the back yard. Raccoons, possums, squirrels.

And now I face a new conundrum. I know the raccoons are back because the cats' water bowl is periodically tipped over and I have a new photo of them on the game camera. But I'm not sure the raccoons are up to this latest bit of deviltry.

Let me explain.

After losing several patio table umbrellas to high winds/ice, I have finally learned that lesson and keep the current one tied down unless we're under it. Also, I love mandevillas and have three of them spaced around the patio. Two are climbing up torch poles and then to the fence. One I am trying very hard to coax up the arbor piling. To that end, I tied garden twine around the pole and the mandevilla. All was going well until I looked and the twine was gone. And the patio umbrella tie. No evidence of either.

Not on the ground, not blown to the other side of the yard. Hmmm. Now, who would take them? So, I tied twine again and a slight piece of rope I half-hitched around the umbrella. (I knew macrame knotting would eventually come in handy.) Two days later, they were gone.

I can cross several suspects off my list: neither cats, possums, or squirrels are capable of this. Raccoons are dextrous enough, but why? And then a friend suggested that most clever of birds, the crow.

We have crows. I've heard them. I've tied that green elastic garden stuff around the pole and the umbrella this time. Double knotted. And the game camera is aimed at the table.

I'm ready. Bring it on.

Fish food: An adventure not for the faint of heart

Sweet potato peelings not having the desired effect in my effort to entrance a raccoon (or possum for that matter since I found one on my film), I decided to try fish food.

I've never had fish, not even the gold variety one might win at a fair booth. Never had the desire to have my cats circle a fish bowl or tank and constantly lick their chops, thereby upsetting not only the fish, but me. So, opening the fish food was a revelation, and a bad one at that. Sheesh! It smelled like fish!

I shook a few flakes onto some grapes--might as well appeal to all tastes-- and set up the trap.

My cats instantly--INSTANTLY!--went on point. Now, we're talking about half a teaspoon of fishy bait here. But they started circling. I said bad things to them and tried to scare them away.

Thirty minutes later, Sammy was in the trap and, from the photos, Duchess (don't forget that name) had circled him and sat on top of the trap in support of his plight. I let him out.

Checked an hour later. Socks was having an absolute conniption in the trap. This is the little cat who had successfully stolen the slice of deli turkey last week. The lure of fish food must have made her careless. She was clinging to the trap and I had to tump her out.

Back to the couch I go. Last night was the Dancing with the Stars finale and the cats were ruining my rhythm.

Next commercial. Duchess. Obviously someone is a slow learner because by now there's no food in the trap because it's been turned over and dispersed by Socks. Duchess patiently allows me to release her. And she performs this same trick a hour later.

So the upshot is I have 111 photos on the trophy cam, four of them after I let Duchess out the second time and none of them with a raccoon.

Dare I try the pork ribs tonight? How much sleep do I want?

And, Happy Thanksgiving!

What's new at the trapping venture

No one opted for the sweet potato peelings. Or, for that matter, for the pumpkin innards I tried next. I purchased the goldfish food today that my neighbor had also suggested. At $1.23, I figured, 'why not?'

But it's raining and the idea of trapping an animal and keeping him in the rain all night does not appeal to me. Even a raccoon.

And especially since I have new bait, guaranteed to catch something, probably my cats. Pork ribs. That was my first successful bait in 1996 for trapping a raccoon who'd been making a nuisance of himself for a year! He was so clever he could get into the trap and get the bone without setting the trap off. Then, when I dangled it from the top with string, he pulled the string up and nibbled and left the bone in-my-face on top. Finally, I managed to tie it top and bottom and got him. Good thing, too, as I was out of ribs.

So, I'm reluctant to try it and then have to spend the evening sorting out the cats. But I have an added incentive: last night's photos showed a new-to-the-backyard visitor: a possum.

Now, he was interested in the pumpkin, and at least Sammy wasn't sitting in the entry... but still, he didn't go in.

The doll bed and the raccoon, although not together

Update on the doll bed project: My neighbor has loaned me her Dremel with its various attachments. So far, I've blasted far enough through a steel wire brush to feel guilty so I've bought a replacement and I've totally demolished three not-as-tough brushes. Totally. GONE. Down to the nubbins. The upside is, I think a little steel wool and I'll have it clear enough to stain. We're not going to tote up the hours.

On to the great raccoon hunt.

Tired of not getting my quarry on grapes, I upped my game to include a slice (a slice--mind you!) of deli turkey. The trophy cam was in place so I could see what had transgressed and it was a sorry sight indeed.

First of all, the outdoor cats paid no attention to the extra-good aroma emanating from the trap. They were more involved with their standard cat food dinner, so I think, this is good. I can't smell it; they can't smell it. The raccoon is better than all of us and I'll have the little varmint in the morning.

I am sooo naive.

An hour into this adventure last night, the turkey is gone and the trap is not sprung. But, I have photos, right? I'll look after choir practice.

Home from choir, I traipse outside to get the SD card and there, in the trap, are two of my fav cats, Sammy and Countess. Two. Huddled together. There was not any turkey left in the trap from the raid by the (as yet) mystery animal. I spring S and C from the confines and collect the SD card. 39 photos on it in an hour where they should be half a dozen, max.

A careful reading of the card shows the turkey thief to be Socks, a lightweight in the cat division. I put the card back.

Before going to bed, I find Duchess, wily old female cat, in, you guessed it, the trap. By now, I've had it with them. There is only grapes and apples for bait. What was she thinking?

This morning, there are 44 more photos to review. What ever has gone on in the night?

Lots of traffic by my animals, the neighbors' and a raccoon. Except he couldn't get into the alluring trap of grapes and apples because Sammy had chosen to sit in the trap's entry. IN THE ENTRY. Was he protecting the raccoon from a countryside-fate?

Tonight, there are grapes and sweet potato peelings in the trap because my neighbor said she thought the raccoon would like them. We will, actually, see.

Seeing what I'm missing with my new toy

Just to get you up-to-date on the doll bed before I start the fun with my latest gadget, days 3 and 4 have had to do with hand sanding. I'm using aluminum oxide paper which is like sanding with not-so-finely ground black pepper, and I've taken the ridges off at least two of my fingers. I'll go over the bed with some finer paper and steel wool and then that baby is getting painted!

But back to my new toy: a Bushnell trophy camera! Tired of knowing the wildlife was about, but not being able to readily trap it (although I do have a fairly good track (trap?) record), I thought this would make a good addition to my arsenal. So to speak.

I didn't buy a very expensive one, I'm not hunting deer for the meat locker after all, but it does do amazing things: takes video or still, color photos with enough light, it's infra-red and motion detecting. With the current SD card and resolution, it'll take over 4000 shots! What fun would that be? I look at it every morning.

First of all, I set it up in the small house we use for storage. I know there is a cat who lodges there and enters through displaced floor boards. Come to find out, she has lots of company during the evening hours: over a three night period, there were two other cats--one of which is my neighbor's--one or two raccoons and a possum! A possum! Haven't seen one in ages and there it is, rooting around the floor boards.

That fun being over, I set it up outside the patio where I know raccoons have trod, especially since I came nose to nose with one last week when I opened the back door to feed the outside cats. Rocky Raccoon was either going up or down the pillar, but went up with the advent of me. Eventually I caught him eating the cats' breakfast and I chased him from the yard.

But I knew he'd been back (dirty water is a giveaway) and so I set the trap and the camera.

Night one, he sniffed around it. Night two, I mis-set it and he wandered in and ate the grapes. It's all on digital film, but tonight is night three and I've done a much better job of setting the trap.

I hope tomorrow morning to see Rocky R in person behind bars and then be able to view him later!

Fighting a two-front war

To cut to the chase: Kay 0, Armadillo 1. Or, if you count nights of freedom and lawn-digging, since the rampage continues, the armadillo is 4.

My fruit offering has been rebuffed, so I'm upping the ante. I bought night crawlers at Walmart. Then the question arises, how to keep them from crawling away? Goodness knows, I'm not going to let them loose so they can crawl out of the trap! The internet to the rescue: nylon stockings! It just so happens that I keep a supply of mismatched knee-his.

As to the two-front war in the subject line: Tuesday morning who do I see dining on the back patio with the outdoor cats? A raccoon. Young and not very afraid of me, even though I did manage to make him skedaddle.

It's now a two-trap war.

24 Days of Ornaments: Dec the 9th

And then there are the clowns in my life.

I've had quite a run with raccoons and this ornament is a reminder of them all. Given to me by friend Marsha the year after my first adventure, the one where wily raccoon number 1 managed to break in through the pet door and amble down the hall at will, I've always hung it in a prominent place.

Marsha and my spouse got a big kick out of it. I store it in the attic.

Critter count

One more raccoon has been relocated to the country. Where, as we all know, raccoons belong for the good life.

Playin' possum

Yesterday morning I heard the commotion before I even opened the back door to feed Sammy, Duchess, and crew. The outdoor cats were upset about something and it was quickly obvious who: two half-grown raccoons were variously running across the fenced backyard and climbing the hackberry tree. They'd already made a fine mess of the cats' water by spilling it and leaving dirt in the bowl. No sooner did I put down food for the cats and go back inside to watch, than one bold fellow was onto the food. I put an end to that by opening the door and yelling at him.

I haven't seen raccoons all summer and now there were two. It was time to trap.

So last night I set the trap between the hackberry tree and the regular feeding spot. I loaded it with a pear and sunflower seeds and spent five minutes chasing cat Sammy away from it.

Ninety minutes later, the trap had done its trap-thing. Wonderful! Except I'd got a possum.

Now, I haven't seen a possum in/near our yard in ten years. How befuddling is this? Still, even though he wasn't who I wanted, I couldn't let him go.

Today, he has a new country home, which is where he belongs instead of mere blocks from downtown. Tonight, I'll try again for the elusive raccoons. Wish me luck!

This, that, and the other or: Sam, work-in-progress, antiquing trip, and pear preserves

1. It's darn impossible to trap a raccoon when the trap is otherwise occupied. I let Sammy cat out of it twice last night before I had gone to bed and again this morning when I got up. I just can't think of any bait which will be enticing to a raccoon but not enticing to him. I have thought of setting two traps, which I have. Even Sammy cannot be in two places at one time.

2. I have a new opening post on my website. Please visit and read about my new work-in-progress.

3. I mentioned I'd been on a trip, but haven't written about it yet. A friend and I spent three days in Oklahoma near Muscogee antiquing. I'd say we did it at our leisure, but that would be a lie. There were so many antique stores and malls to see that we not only lost count of those visited, but also there was nothing leisurely about the pace we set. She goes to bed late and I go early. She'll catch a few extra winks if she can and I'm up before 6. We were in bed the second night by 10 and slept until 7:30. Who says antiquing isn't hard work?

4. And, last but not least, I've had a comment on my pear preserves blog from two years ago, asking if I ever found an exact recipe. Sorta.

Peel, slice, and weigh pears. An approximately equal poundage of sugar will be needed to cover the pears, although in my last batch, 5 pounds of sugar covered 8 pounds of prepared pears. Add 1-3 sliced lemons, cover, and let set overnight. Cook pears down until color and consistency desired. This takes hours and impatient soul that I am, I scooped liquid off so it would be faster. Spoon into jars, seal, water-bath. My 8 pounds of prepared pears yielded 8 cups of preserves.

Enjoy!

The Sammy wars... or how many times should one be trapped before one gets a hint?

Yes, that's right, some kitties are not very smart. This pains me to admit, since I love cats and find myself out-foxed by them all the time. However, outdoor kitty Sam, he of the sea-green eyes and orange tabby coat, is none too bright. (For the record, I think the black and white tuxedo cats are the brains of the species, the calicos the divas.)

And why is Sammy fitting himself so nicely into my dumb-as-a-bump-on-a-log stereotype of orange tabbys? Because he's been in the trap twice more. He looks at me so pitifully as I rescue him, Friday morning and then again Friday night. He hasn't eaten the cat food bait. Not a bit. Maybe he just wanted to be near it.

But the last experience must have resonated somewhere in that little-bitty brain, because he stayed out of the trap long enough for a very large raccoon to find accommodations inside. He did eat the bait--and proceeded to tear the old margarine tub to smithereens. But he has a new home now where wild animals are supposed to be.

I can always hope Sammy is wiser for his experiences, but I'll be checking the trap an hour after I set it from now on just in case.

Just who's trapped here?

Following my last post, I set the trap to boot-scoot Mr. Raccoon out of my neighborhood and certainly off my roof. However, Sam the outside cat had different plans. I practically had to sweep him off the trap when I first set it and became so desperate for him to leave it alone that I gave him part of the bait, a can of premium cat food. I left him at bedtime on the patio chaise.

I found him at 6 Monday morning in the trap. He was waiting patiently for me to release him. This is a bad habit, Sam, I told him. Bad, bad cat.

So I glowered at him when I re-set it on Monday night. He didn't seem as inclined as before to climb right in. Soon, there wasn't room, as Mama cat, a secondary object in my trap-crosshairs, had found the cat food irresistible and put herself in. I felt bad to leave her in there all night, but I had a home for her the next morning with her kittens in a barn in the country. Needless to say, she scarcely said 'thank you' as I released her from the trap into the shelter and safety of a workshop. She shot to the back, hopefully following the trail of her kittens. Their new owner says he sees them at mealtime and they are doing well.

Having put that family back together, I'm still at odds with Mr. R. He didn't show up Tuesday night, but the cat's water was filthy this morning, so he's still moseying through. However, how can he be trapped when it's already so full?

Rumble on the roof

Thursday morning (I've been out of town, subject of the next blog) so this is just now being shared, but Thursday morning, my cat Pyewacket, he of the six-pound, no-apparent-reason, weight-loss, woke me up at 5:15. He was in the landing window, a perch he could not have obtained pre-loss, and he was growling.

I was home alone (except for the menagerie) and growling at an opened window is just never good news. I could see from his silhouette (we keep lots of night lights glowing) that he was doubled in size, his tail a huge frizz and his back in hissy-kitty formation. His brother and partner in crime was crouched on the stairs. He could not attain the window in his state of pork-ulence (thanks to friend David for this variation of corpulence) so it fell to Pye to defend the home front.

I think I knew before I propped my chin on elbows in the window what I would find. Neighbor kitties are not given to second story climbing. Squirrels are still asleep and I think this sort of disturbance beneath their dignity anyway. But it's not beneath the dignity of... you guessed it... a raccoon.

I knew we had (another) one because the outdoor cats' water bowl has been very dirty every morning. Sure enough, staring at me not two feet from the window, was the object of my next entrapment. He continued to chitter, then turned that sassy tail and sauntered off the roof, onto the pergola, and out of sight.

Let the games begin.

My pear crop

After 25 years of growing, trimming, feeding, and coaxing our two pear trees into yielding pears--an act they do with regularity--I am happy to report that I--the owner of said trees--have finally beaten the raccoons and squirrels at their own game and picked a pear crop.

Twenty four. Approx.

One tree has given us big pears and one tree's are half the size. There are a few pears at the top of the tree, but absent a wind toppling them into my waiting hands, they will be gleaned or left to rot.

I had hoped to make pear preserves, my absolute favorite jelly/jam/condiment, but a friend informed me that as these were planted to be eating pears, they wouldn't make good preserving pears. And there are only 24 of them.

Bon appetit to me!

But what about a pie?

All trapped out

Since the triumph of last Sunday morning, I have been on a trapping low. I've set my trap amidst the pear trees three nights. I've baited it with fruit and veggies (health food for the incarcerated) and waited. Nothing. Not even a heavy breeze to close the gate. Each morning I've found the goodies where I left them, the door up, and the trap empty.

So, who's eating my pears? They still litter the ground in half-eaten state.

Just to make sure this was not a figment of my imagination, I raked all the pears together yesterday morning and carried them to the compost pile. By early evening, there were more on the ground, some whole (they just fell off?) and some with heavy evidence of mealtime. Ah ha! Since pears don't practice cannibalism, someone was in those trees. But who? Raccoons don't appear in the daytime. Squirrels? Awfully big bites for squirrels.

Therefore, I set the trap again last night and... no takers.

I may have to close up shop and harvest before I want to in order to get any pears at all.

Outwitted. Again.

Don't tell my cats.

Disap-pear-ed

Undeterred from my previous night's experience, I set the trap with grapes and banana. Surely no cat would wander into that ploy. So what should I find yesterday morning than--ta da!--a raccoon. A full-grown raccoon. Where did he/she come from? Perhaps it was my targets' parent. A sojourn to the countryside was in order and accomplished.

So... last night, I tried lettuce and tomato and the results are below with outside cat Sammy getting his curiosity satisfied.



Only problem? These are too small to be the little rascals I spied in my pears. But still, a trip to the countryside was in order, where they could meet up with their relative already there.

I continue.

But, let's face it--two at once! WHOA!!!!!!!

Disap-pear-ing

They're darlin', just darlin', as my aunt would have said. So cute, so innocent, as they waddle out of my neighbor's yard, through my caladiums, and into my pear tree.

That's right. It's summer, the pears are far from ripe, and the juvenile raccoons have shown up.

In the twenty years we've had these two pear trees, we have never, never, never! had a pear! Each year, as the crop ripens, we anticipate the bounty, only to come out one morning and find them all gone, the trees stripped.

We had the culprits narrowed down to squirrels or raccoons, but before this year, have never actually seen them at work. Of course, these two relative babies are but the latest in a very long raccoon line to find us. This problem is generational. But now that I know about it, I'm going to try and fix it.

Two nights ago, as I sat on my patio, movement across the yard caught my eye. A young raccoon walked out from the caladium row, grabbed a pear on the ground and sauntered back. I went to check on him, only to find there were two of them, the ground was littered with pears sans one bite (they are, after all, not ripe yet), and to see two little ring-tails scoot under the fence into the wooded area next door.

Last night, I set the trap with, alas, cat food. I should know better, because Sammy, our outdoor cat, immediately became enamored of it. So enamored that two hours later, I'd caught him in the trap. Giving new meaning to catch and release, I turned him out, hoping he had learned his lesson. An hour later, I'd caught the neighborhood homeless tom.

Now, I'd really like to do something about this fellow and his ever-expanding gene pool. But the vet is closed today, maybe Saturday, too--I don't know--and so, because I wasn't going to keep him trapped for days, he got a reprieve. Unfortunately, he's probably learned his lesson as Sammy has and I'll never get him again.

At that point, I kicked the trap closed and gave up on the raccoons babies for the night.

I will persevere, however, and find a less cat-friendly bait for tonight. Because the odd thing is, I've actually had a friend tell me he wants these raccoons for his country home. They have a place to go! Now if they'd just get in the trap, I'd take them there.

The Armadillo Wars, Part 3: Not-so-impartial third party

Oh, oh,oh--this is so good! We can't believe what we're hearing! She's being out-armadillo'ed!

Oh--you don't know who we are? We're One and Two, Raccoons extraordinaire, at your service, if you please. We now live in the country, enjoying the good life, although there was a bump in the road, or two, before we got our rhythm down, if you know what we mean.

But we hear by the animal grapevine that Arnie Armadillo is outsmarting Ol' Ms. Trap-'em there in town. Really, we'd like to be honest with Arnie and tell him that there's plenty of grubs here, but it's just more fun thinking she can't get him.

We are laughing all the way from the hole in the tree to the lake's edge.

But we do need to clue him in about Erma. That 'dillo is playing fast and loose with his affections.

One and Two