Well, Brenda has pushed me to post again, even though she still shies away from writing anything herself. Whatever. At any rate, we live in a sort of petting zoo lately with all of the small mammals that are trying to take up residence close by. I asked property management about the problems and was told that we could take whatever measures we deemed necessary to keep animals out. Barring, of course, a rifle or shotgun from the house. (shame) So, the next time we heard something climbing around our garbage can, out came the bb gun and all the stops. I loaded before I opened the door, but missed having a clean shot in the light. I chased THREE raccoons out of the carport and into the side yard, where I got off one pot shot (there was a solid wood fence backdrop, so it was safe) but missed. So I went for the hatchet. By this time, there was only one 'coon left in the yard, a huge one. He was standing on his hind feet on the front lawn watching me, but he took off as soon as I started toward him.
Fast forward a few weeks to last night. Brenda was watching The Sound of Music (yawn) while I comfortably dozed on the couch. She paused the movie suddenly and sat forward on her seat listening. "I think something is in the garbage cans again."
"So go get it," was my lethargic reply.
"Uh... no? You go get it. Hurry though!"
So, before I even looked outside, I put my shoes, jacket, and gloves on, ready for a fight. The only thing I had handy was a claw hammer and my trusty Crosman pellet gun. So they came with me. I opened the blinds and turned on the light, which normally at least gets their attention and allows me to find out what's eating our trash. Nothing moved into view, but we could hear whatever it was munching on something. I opened the kitchen door and started toward the garbage can when I heard that the munching noise was coming from the carport, just to the side of the open door. As soon as I turned, Brenda grabbed my jacket and said "It's a SKUNK! Get back inside!" I was happy to oblige.
The culprit was a very young skunk, his body minus tail was probably only 11 inches long, give or take. And he kept munching away right there next to the motorcycle. Not to be trodden on like that by a rodent, I went out the front door and lined up a great shot. Then I started thinking about what would happen if I for some crazy reason missed and shot out the window of our neighbor's car, and reason got the best of me. I put the gun away. Since he was still pridefully eating in full view of where I was standing and I still have a fence between myself and stench-ridden torment, I opted for a less-harmful deterrent. I fixed a nozzle on the garden hose, and turned it on all the way. The noise didn't seem to bother him, so I opened it up. I think the panicked retreat was worth not being able to shoot it. He scurried under the motorcycle backwards, almost folded in half, and I heard his now wet claws scurrying all over the pavement. The most odd thing about this was that we couldn't smell him at all during the entire event. But I must say I'm glad I didn't get involved in hand-to-gland combat, since I know I would have lost that battle.
Rodents-4, Me-2 for overall garbage matches now. I hope we have a rematch soon.
