Raccoons are enjoying new celebrity, thanks to Rocket Raccoon and the Guardians of the Galaxy movies. Rocket even has his own Wikipedia page (and there you'll learn that he's actually more than forty years old). But raccoons are really better in theory (and movies) than in reality. Many of you already know this.
We thought that after we trapped four armadillos in five nights, our back yard would no longer look like a herd of drunken golfers (OK, perhaps that's redundant) with pitching wedges had descended on it. Boy, were we wrong.
As it turned out, the Armadillo Mafia was good at two things: digging up grubs, and keeping the raccoons at bay. And once the 'dillos were gone, the 'coons were free to muscle into their territory.
I had applied grub control to the lawn with no apparent effect, so my last resort was to buy a trap and use the same strategy that had been successful with the armadillos. My first try using canned cat food and marshmallows was a flop (thanks a bunch, Internet!). Even the flies weren't impressed.
My brother and his wife said that they'd heard that the best bait for raccoons was a slightly opened can of sardines. Apparently, they're smart enough to discern that a fully opened can meant it was a trap. I was skeptical, but also desperate, so that's what I tried.
I placed the trap in the middle of the back yard, and slid a can of sardines (in oil, of course; I'm not a barbarian) into the back of the trap. I left it with a silent prayer that skunks don't like sardines.
Here's what showed up the next morning.
Cute little guy, isn't he? Unlike the armadillos who, once they determined they were trapped, immediately went to sleep, the raccoon was alert and...well...a bit agitated. He'd apparently spent a restless night trying to dig through the bottom of the cage, which was now layered with shredded St. Augustine. The lawn under the cage looked like a new grave:
I was happy to (1) see a raccoon and (b) not see a skunk. But I was puzzled: there was no sign of the sardine can. It wasn't in the cage; it wasn't in the yard. It wasn't anywhere in view over the fence. I'm pretty sure the raccoon didn't swallow it.
Here's my theory. We actually had TWO raccoons in the cage, and the door wouldn't close completely because of the close quarters. One of them was able to back out of the trap with the sardines, and the door slammed shut behind him, leaving the other trapped and sad and sardine-less.
In any event, as with the armadillos, my plan was catch-and-release, with the release part occurring far, far away. As I have absolutely no experience with raccoons, I wasn't sure how miffed and adversarial this one might be once uncaged, so I rigged up a remote trap door release, consisting of a long rope hooked onto the release handle.
I loaded the trap into the pickup bed (the caged occupant wasn't amused by the trip from the back yard to the truck) and strapped it down. MLB agreed to act as videographer and EMT. We drove to an undisclosed location, close to live water where the little guy might have a chance to thrive, and put my release plan into action.
The results were...umm...sub-optimal. Well, see for yourself.
Obviously, I had nothing to fear from this particular raccoon, as he disappeared faster than Sean Spicer's acting career. I still think my remote-release theory is sound; I just need to work on the application part.
Of course, if my other theory is correct -- the one about the double raccoon appearance -- we still have at least one more to trap. I've rebaited the trap with a fresh can of sardines, and this time it's zipped-tied to the bottom of the cage. I let you know how it turns out.
In the meantime, I hope I don't dream about a certain weapondized and vindictive raccoon.
Update: After composing the preceding account last night, I set the trap again, hoping to catch the companion raccoon that had managed to abscond with the sardines while abandoning his unfortunate partner. I didn't want a repeat of the mangled lawn under the cage so I placed it in the vacant lot next door.
I went out with a flashlight before daylight this morning to check the trap, and sure enough, another one had succumbed to the siren song of the sardine; his eyes were glowing accusingly in the glare of the flashlight. I returned to my cup of coffee.
After daybreak, here's what I found.
This time, the
victim occupant had practically filled the cage with debris, including a fairly large twig that baffled me as to how he had possibly dragged it inside. The trap was also on its side, evidencing a spirited attempt at an escape.
More impressive was the fact that while I had tightly secured the can of sardines to the bottom of the cage with nylon zip ties threaded through the ring tab, the raccoon had still managed to break the can free, peel the lid completely away from the can, and in the process snap off the ring tab. And, of course, the sardine can was clean as a whistle (however clean that may be). Never underestimate the ingenuity and commitment of a trapped raccoon.
The release went smoothly, as again the freed captive gave us not a second glance as it scurried into the woods. I do wonder if it will meet up with its partner, and what the ensuing conversation might entail.