I found this story in my drafts folder from about two years ago!
We spotted a raccoon. In our yard.
Normally this would be met with a little excitement, mingled with a twinge of fear as in: Don’t let the kids get close; it could be rabid.
But tonight the sight meant: We have chickens! Get that b*stard out of here!
No one said that, of course. The children, after all. But Hubs and I were thinking it.
He grabbed a stick and chased after the raccoon, which jumped on the lattice fence. As it was crawling down the other side, Hubs jabbed the stick through a hole and got the racoon in its belly. It fell the remaining two feet and scurried off.
[If you love all creatures, great and small, including chicken killers, my apologies.]
“That will keep him away. But not for long,” Hubs said.
The children went on the offensive. Armed with sticks and a surprisingly functional homemade bow and arrow, they kept guard, marching back and forth along the fence. Read the rest of this entry