Raccoons becoming AGGRESSIVE!!…. Part II (CB)

When we last saw our hero’s they had just returned from a bonfire party and had just laid down to a peaceful nights sleep

Click here for Part I

…………

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit…..what is THAT??!!!”

I have a very, VERY short list of way I like be woken up in the middle of the night. This way is NOT on that list.

What is what? I reply, wanting to go back to sleep.

“That! On the table…Oh shit! RACCOON!!! It’s a raccoon” She said, pointing towards the table about 7 feet away from my head.

I’m now scrambling awake, trying frantically to untangle myself from the little beddy time burrito I’ve rolled myself into while I slept. I’m having a hard time of it, but manage to get myself rolled over and propped up on my elbows. Sure enough, there he was sitting on his dirty little ass, leaning back against the wall, eating from an open can of Planters Party Mix peanuts.

The word that comes to mind to describe him and they way he was eating those peanuts is, chillin, we was simply chillin. Kicked back, lazily eating one nut at a time. He would grab one, look at it and pop it into his mouth. Not a care in the world. The picture would be perfect if he had an cold bottle of beer in his other hand. Instead that hand was resting on his plump little belly.

As I’m watching this show unfold, I vaguely hear Tawn say “I’ve got a plan”.

“Huh?”

“I’ve got a plan.” She whispered back.

“A plan for what?” I countered.

“A plan to get that raccoon out of the boat”.

Weird as it may sound, until just then, I had not really considered that we actually had a problem. I’m not sure what I was thinking, or if I was thinking at all. I had not even thought about how we were going to get this little bastard out of our boat and more importantly our dwindling party mix supply. And I just know he was picking out and eating just the cashews and leaving the stupid regular peanuts…greedy bugger.

“What is the plan?” I asked.

She quickly and quietly proceeds to tell me the plan. It involved her stealthily crawling out of the forward hatch (to safety), which was directly above our heads. Then quietly walking to the rear of the boat and lifting the canvas tarp that was covering the companionway, she would then yell at the raccoon. Which in, Tawn’s mind, would force the raccoon to run out the way he came in.

Now, in my mind, which I might add is a little more in tune with that of a wild animal’s than Tawn’s apparently is, I instantly pictured a very different, very scary scenario. One that involved me and a pissed off raccoon, hopped up on free peanuts, locked in mortal combat. All in the cramped space of a V-berth on a 27 foot sailboat, and I with the distinct disadvantage of being rolled up in a blankie burrito with nothing but my head sticking out.

“Sweet lord, NO” I began to say. But it was too late; Tawn had already disappeared up and through the hatch.

I could hear her walking across the deck. My eyes locked on the raccoon, one thought raced through my mind….could this raccoon become aggressive? I had nothing to write on, no way to warn others of the horror that was playing out on the island. So with what could only be described as super human strength I somehow tore wiggled out of my blankie burrito and did the only thing I could. My last desperate chance at survival….

I grabbed the only weapons at my disposal, two pillows. I readied myself and just as Tawn was lifting the canvas tarp, I leapt to my knees and constructed an impenetrable fortress made of pillows. I had effectively sealed myself off from the fury that was about to be unleased.
Peeking out over the top of my wall of pillows, I can see the raccoon has abandoned the party mix, probably ran out of cashews. He’s on his feet, glancing first at the opening he came in through and then at me and the open hatch directly above me. “Oh good” I thought. The hatch is open. Maybe he’ll scurry up and out of the hatch. Then it hits me, “How high can a raccoon jump?” Without access to the internet, I have no way of knowing. But I’m pretty sure it would not be high enough for him to get from the floor up to the open hatch. He’d have to clamber up my pillow wall. The thought of that little skittering bitch clawing and wiggling up the pillows that I’m frantically trying to keep stuffed in the opening to the V-berth gave me the freakin willys.

It was at this moment that Tawn yelled, the raccoon spun around. I’m not sure what exactly happened, but my best guess is, my little girl scream must have been more frightening and shrill than Tawn’s was, and the raccoon opted to flee out the way it came in.

And as quickly as it started, it was over.

I realize you read this whole thing hoping for a little man vs. raccoon action, but it just did not turn out that way.

Later that night, I woke up. I heard voices and went up on deck. And there floating just above the deck I saw him. It was the ghostly image of the ranger, smiling and nodding his approval. He turned and smiled to a floating Obi Wan Kenobi, and Yoda……………..uh….I’m sorry, actually, that didn’t really happen. I just wanted to give you a better ending.

Oh and in case your wondering, according to this site: Fun raccoon facts, raccoons can jump about 2 feet.