Monday, August 01, 2005

Squatting Vermin

You are not welcome, Raccoon Squatters in my barn. Begone. Yes, you're cute. That mask, those tiny little hands...who could not think you were precious? Well, me. One of the three (that I know about) of you scares the living wampus out of me nearly every time I turn the lights on in the barn at night. And I don't know who you might be fooling, but I, for one, have seen the glint of evil in your eyes (see photographic evidence).

A few acres north, you'll find my neighbor's barn. It's MUCH nicer than mine. Go there. Or, if you can make it across the road to the east a couple acres, there is another huge barn, where, I happen to know, there are chickens, pigeons, and EGGS. Dozens and dozens of them, just ripe for the stealing.

Seriously--there has to be a more hospitable place for you, even if you are totally eschewing the forest. A place without a truckload of loud ninja-esque poodles and an obviously worthless barn cat to deal with. Where people will not start chucking empty Panacur tubes at you as you perch in the rafters. Please. Think about relocating.


  1. To make the Raccoons go away you need to write on a piece of paper that you would like them to leave and then tell them the terrible things that you are going to do to them if they don't. Soak the paper in grease and put it in your barn. The raccoons will find it, eat it and go away. If they don't you have to go through with whatever threats you made or the other wildlife will figure out you're all talk and no action. Call it an old wives tale or whatever, but try it and see if it works.

  2. Isn't there supposed to be something about "stump water" in there? You just want to see me out under a full moon doing the Naked Coon-Repelling Chant". Ha, ha. Joke's on you, I already tried it.

    Oh, and...GREASE? In THIS house? Surely you jest. We are far to pure for that. Well, except for the corndogs.