Raccoons

 Mason, wearing a coonskin cap that I recently made him

This last Friday we got to have some friends come over and play. The weather was relatively warm and so Mason and his friend, Aiden, spent 90% of the time outside exploring and pretending to be raccoons. Although this behavior is nothing new with my boys, James and I couldn't help but feel a little bad for the feral-child influence that we were inflicting on our friend's normal child. Oh well. 

Our boys love pretending to be little animals but lately Mason almost always chooses to be a raccoon. In fact, he has become so interested in these cute creatures that he has already asked to be one for Halloween.(No date is too early to discuss such matters in our home.) I don't know where this new fascination came from, but I must say, I am glad to know that there doesn't seem to be any emotional scaring from having raccoons plunder our backyard chicken coop in his youth.

You see, when Mason was two we embarked on our second attempt of raising chickens. We got six little fluffy chicks and James built them a wonderful chicken coop once they were old enough to live outside. We loved those little chickens! One in particular, little Chocolate Milk, became especially dear to us once she started having health problems. James and I felt a little bad for the little chick, but after hearing Mason pray for Chocolate Milk daily, we were certain to do everything in our power to help her along! (And by we, I mostly mean James who had to give her regular enemas since she couldn't seem to poop to save her life!)

Unfortunately, just before our chickens were mature enough to lay eggs, a family of raccoons moved in who wanted nothing more than to snack on our favorite feathered-friends. Eventually they were able to break into the cage and started stealing our chickens one at a time. Each morning I would open our back blinds, fearful of finding that another of our chickens/pets were taken until one morning I opened them to find that the cage was empty altogether. However, just when I was about to have a good cry, I notice the tail feathers of  our beloved Chocolate Milk as she strutted around the bush in the neighboring lot. Hot dog! She had gotten out but wasn't eaten! I was thrilled since I couldn't bare the thought of having to tell Mason that she was gone.

Together Mason and I set out to catch Chocolate milk and crept up behind her calling, "Chocolate Milk! Oh Chocolate Milk!" However, just as we did, she turned around and to our HORROR, her whole face was gone!!!! The raccoons had attacked her after all and Mason had to see it! I screamed and ran poor little Mason back into the house as quickly as possible.

Once inside I knew that something had to be done and since James wouldn't be home till later that evening, it was up to me to do it. I must have been suffering from some sort of shock because my first thought was to shoot the poor thing, but seeing as we lived in downtown Provo, it was decided that a shovel would be a better idea. Bravely I put on Thomas the Train for Mason, closed the blinds, and marched resolutely outside. After saying a prayer for extra  physical strength to help me put her out of her misery, I picked up a shovel and went off to find her.

Unfortunately, by that time a young mom was nursing her baby outside (???) just across the lot and would surely see the whole thing! But even with her presence, I was determined to help Chocolate Milk and put her out of her misery. I was terrified and embarrassed that this woman would have to witness it, but I was quite confident that I could get the job done rather quickly and figured as long as we didn't make eye contact, it would be okay. I lifted my shovel and WHACK! Off the headless Chocolate Milk ran! Whack! Again I missed as she skittered off! After so many failed attempts, I realized that I was way in over my head. With the help of Mason's trusty bug net I finally caught the poor bird, and while I blubbered pathetically, eventually (after many blows) was able to kill her. My pioneer ancestors would have been ashamed to claim me.

I was so worried that Mason would be scarred by that horrific first scene, but after talking about how Chocolate Milk was now happy up in heaven, he seemed to be fine. I have never been able to forgive raccoons but now that he has taken such a shine to them, apparently Mason has.

That is, forgiven but not forgotten:

A picture of a raccoon chasing a chicken that Mason drew recently