Yes, I do call myself the Fancy Farmgirl, but there is a very fine line between that and being hillbilly. This weekend I think we crossed that line.
What do hillbillies do on the weekends, you might ask? Well, if they live around these parts, they try to catch the varmints that have been eating the cat food. You see, my husband had been getting quite frustrated with the fact that something was spilling and eating all the cat food every night. Usually the kind of animals that do so, also like baby chicks as a main course, the cat food is just an appetizer. My husband is very protective of our new baby chicks, so he knew something needed to be done.
Now a real hillbilly would have sat and waited in a corner with a very large gun, until the varmint appeared, and then shoot it to smithereens. Of course the Fancy Farmgirl side of me said that wasn't an option and we set up a live trap instead. My husband lay in wait for the varmint to show up, peering out the back door with a flashlight. He wanted me to stay by his side and wait, but at 11pm at night, I had better plans to lay down in my fluffy bed. Round about 11:20, my husband ran into the bedroom and shouted to come see the raccoon he had been watching. When I arrive, the raccoon is near the trap and looking for a way in. I tell him "Great….. have fun, I am going to bed."
About 15 minutes passes, when he returns triumphant to our bed. I ask if he caught it and he says "Yes, but it wasn't easy."
The raccoon had apparently gone in the trap, but the trap did not close on him, so my husband said he threw a rock at the cage while the raccoon was in it, and it snapped closed. He wanted me to come see it right then, but I assured him it would still be there in the morning, I would see it then.
Fast forward to morning….
We go out to check on the raccoon. I ask what we are going to do with it now hat we have trapped it. The consensus is to drive it up to the woods and release it far from here. As we gingerly grab the trap with hay hooks, I notice a very large potato smashed in the barn. Curious as to why there is a potato in the barn, I ask my husband if he knows anything about the mysterious vegetable. Apparently in the dark, he mistook the potato for a rock and tells me that is what he threw it at the cage to successfully capture the varmint.
Yes, only a hillbilly would throw a potato…..queue banjos…..
We go to put it in the truck to drive it up into the woods and realize that the truck is completely full with stuff to go to the county dump. We squeeze the raccoon, cage and all into a small opening and off we go. I say we should go release the raccoon first, but my husband says it's not a good idea, because if people see us driving into the woods with a truckload of trash, they might think we are illegally dumping it in the woods. (yes, we only dump raccoons off in the woods, we dispose of our trash properly).
So, we take the raccoon to the dump with us. As we pull up to the window to take our dump ticket, we are wondering if the lady in the kiosk notices this…..
I quickly come up with an explanation in my mind, just in case she thinks we are here to dump the raccoon too. I decide to go with the story that this is our pet raccoon named Junkyard, and he goes everywhere with us. Don't know if she'll buy that one or not…..luckily, she either doesn't notice, or just doesn't say anything about our caged varmint in the back of the truck.
We successfully complete our dump run, and now we can head for the hills to finish our weekend of playing hillbilly.
We find a nice dirt road up in the forest, and pull over. My husband is feeling a little nervous and wants to get the job done fast. Neither of us are really sure of what actual raccoon abandonment law is, so we really don't want anyone to see us. He makes me watch for cars as he gets Junkyard out of the back of the truck. I abandon my car watching post for a moment to get these…..
Goodbye, Junkyard……have a nice new life.
Don't come back soon…..
Or next time we get the gun…..
(note: This last photo is really blurry, because when I stuck the camera this close to the cage, Junkyard didn't like it and he came at me, and I fell over backwards)