Since mid-July, 18 raccoons have been lured by the irresistible bait of homemade, hand-cut peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Big raccoons. Little raccoons. Timid raccoons. Angry raccoons. It seems that no matter how many are caught, more will come. They appear at all hours of the day and night. I got home one Friday afternoon and a raccoon raced past my car and up the nearest tree. He clung to a high branch, panting with exhaustion. How far had he come to reach the cooling waters of our decorative pond? He descended the minute we were inside and sat beneath the pond’s waterfall, soaking up the downpour.
Due to raccoons taking up residence in the eves of our roof, Papa recently set the trap much closer to the house.10 minutes after it was set I heard it snap shut. The porch light revealed a closed but empty cage. As he worked to reset it I noticed the escapee watching from the garden shed roof only a few feet away. The moment the house door closed he came down and began pulling the sandwich out through the bars. Piece by piece he pulled out a full quarter, climbed back to the shed roof and enjoyed his snack. For the second quarter he brazenly walked in, failing to trigger to poor, tired trap. The third he pulled through the bars again. He disappeared after that and we thought he was done for the night.
The next morning he snarled from inside the cage as we left for church. His greed had overcome his common sense, and he’d ventured in to pick up the crumbs. This was no cowering raccoon like the first - he hissed and growled and dashed his head against the bars as I approached.
“I admire your style,” I told him, “But your pride tripped you up.”
How good is a raccoon’s sense of direction? Have any walked the miles back to our yard only to be captured a second time?
I suppose the moral is this: raccoons will do anything for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Jury’s still out as to whether they prefer it cut into squares or triangles.
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