We all have had scary moments, but this one is unique. I was held hostage by a pack of raccoons. Working alone in the office of an upscale Bed and Breakfast Inn, I left the front door open and went upstairs. When I came back, five raccoons were running from room to room. I was prepared for rude guests but not raccoons. I screamed and jumped on top of a desk. At first, I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I call 911? I didn’t want them arrested. I decided to call the owner for moral support. “I know you can’t help me, but the office is full of raccoons.” I screamed again, and they ran out. I locked the door. Thinking I was safe, I prepared to leave, but the saga wasn’t over. Five raccoons were sitting outside the door looking at me through the glass. I was trapped!
There is a history to this encounter. The lead raccoon and I go back. Last spring after closing the B & B’s main house, I saw him lurking on the roof in the shadows waiting for me to leave. Clever, but not clever enough. “I see you, Mr. Raccoon, and I know you are watching and waiting for me to leave.” The dark relationship had begun. In early summer, in broad daylight a mother raccoon paraded in front of me with her offspring. Now a family, the raccoons had abandoned garbage can scavenging. They were feasting nightly from the over-flowing bowls of cat food our staff provided for the parking lot cats.
The night the raccoons came inside, looking for cat food, they became confused and started running wildly to get back out. I do not accept the cliché, “They were more frightened than you.” First of all, how does anyone know how frightened they were, and secondly, I will tell you how frightened I was. There were five of them and one of me and I am not aggressive. Although I am living in the South, I do not want to eat coon. Someone once told me, “They were eating coon back then in North Florida.” Well, I may be in North Florida but if I can’t buy it at the grocery store, I don’t want it for dinner. Coon has never been a choice. The coons were clearly not the ones in danger that night. Were they cute? Well, it is sort of like snow. I like to look at snow from inside a warm house. I will watch Mr. Raccoon through a window, as he deftly dumps garbage over the yard, but I do not want to see him inside. Humans in—Coons out.
I slept in the office that night and cautiously made my way home at the break of dawn. Being a thinking woman, I thoughtfully considered the problem. The B & B cleaning crew had been filling the cat bowls to overflowing. They were feeding the kitties and the neighborhood coons. I gave the crew a measuring cup and I encouraged them to use restraint. I also had a poster made which now hangs by the office door:
IN THE MORNING, NIGHT,
AND NOON
FEED THE CATS AND NOT THE COON
Wondering if I had somehow brought the attack on with what some folks would call ‘bad karma’ I stayed awake for weeks, tossing and turning. I don’t think so. I like animals. I have cats. Last year, I pet my neighbor’s dog. I even enjoy waking up to the sound of a rooster that mysteriously found its way to the park adjacent to my apartment. No, I can’t think of anything that I may have done to initiate a random, violent attack on innocent, peace loving me, but I will use the adventure to write: The Revenge of The Raccoons.
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