One less raccoon to grow up and harass my chickens. Today, as we were walking down the driveway, my dog Ruger (aka "The Booger") dropped the ball he was carrying and moseyed off into an overgrown patch of apple trees. Seconds later, I heard the distinctive squeal of a young raccoon. Yep, Booger had found it and was doing his duty. Good dog! When I heard the squeal, I turned back and saw another one scampering up a tree. I knew they were there - I'd heard them chittering in the trees a week or so ago. My chickens like to hang out in that area, and it's not too far from their coop. We'll have to work on eradicating the rest of them somehow, I suppose. We are comfortable with trapping and dispatching. No relocating for us! (By the looks of it, the raccoon was probably 1/3-1/2 grown - not huge, but definitely past that super cute stage. Yes, I think baby raccoons are adorable. That does not mean I will rescue one, try to raise one, or stop my dog from killing one. Those cute babies turn into troublesome, ferocious adults.)
The hero of the day.
The hero of the day.
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