Annie Oakley is alive but not well.

This afternoon as I was going into the chicken coop to check for eggs, there was a raccoon in there..... in the blessed middle of the blessed day! The raccoon looked at me, I looked at him. I think he was having an afternoon snack of chicken feed and water. Thankfully, the chickens were under the bushes by the back porch and not near the coop.

I thought of shutting the door of the coop so the raccoon would be trapped in there, but I didn't know if he'd go nuts and start climbing up the chicken wire and trying to claw his way out. I also didn't know which of the neighbors were home so they could come down here and shoot the damn thing. (Of course, all of this stuff happens when my husband is at work.)

The only thing I could think to do was to grab the broom that I keep near the coop-- and I used the broom to swat the backside of the raccoon. Once again-- he looked at me, I looked at him. Telling him to "Get out!" didn't seem to help... he just looked at me and stared with those masked eyes of his. There we both were, inside that chicken coop. Again, I smacked his backside with the broom-- not hard enough to hurt him but just hard enough to get his attention. Three times...... and finally, he took the hint and walked slowly out of the coop and went to hide underneath the cottage.

I walked into the garage and got out the cage-trap.... the same cage-trap that I told my husband not to leave out in the yard when he wasn't home because I didn't want to deal with whatever creature crawled into it. Into the cage-trap went a store-bought egg (not going to waste the fresh ones on a damn raccoon) and a thick slice of orange. I put the trap near the spot under the cottage where the raccoon chose to hide. It wasn't till all of that was done that my hands started to shake because I had been inside a 12' x 12' chicken coop with a raccoon who could have turned on me and taken a chunk out of my leg. (Or worse yet, I could have broken a nail while smacking his butt with the broom.)

I called my husband at work..... something I hardly ever do...... and I told him what happened. He said I should have shut the raccoon in the coop, went inside and got the gun, and shot the raccoon inside the coop. "Not a chance," is what I told him.

Tonight I was outside on the porch with the orange/white cat that's been hanging around every night around 8:00....... he meows to get my attention, and of course I go out there to feed him. He was very friendly tonight, coming closer to me than he has in the past. The cat ate his dinner, and was just walking around the porch watching Sweet Pea and Mickey through the screen door. All of a sudden, the orange/white cat looks out into the yard and starts to growl under his little kitty-breath...... I looked out into the yard, and there was the raccoon, munching on bits of bread that the chickens had left there in the grass. The raccoon looked at me... I looked at him.

I came back into the house.... took the gun out of the closet..... took the clip of bullets from the cabinet..... I even remembered how to load the gun. I went back outside and shot the gun into the dirt, hoping to make the raccoon run into the hills. He didn't even move... he looked at me.... I looked at him. In the background, I could hear the orange/white cat growling low, watching the raccoon through the porch railings.

I looked at that raccoon and thought that it had to be either him or my chickens.... or one of the cats. The chickens are an easy kill for a raccoon.... the cats would be harder, but if the raccoon was desperate enough, he'd certainly try. I rested the tip of the gun on the porch railing.... I raised it up just a little bit.... all I had to do was pull that damn trigger. The raccoon was still looking at me. I closed my eyes for a split second and pulled the trigger. When I opened my eyes, the raccoon was hobbling towards the bushes... the same bushes where the chickens usually hide from the afternoon sun. I looked at the gun. Did I really just shoot that thing?

It was too dark out there to see if the raccoon came out the other side of those bushes.... I will have to look closely in the morning and see if there's a dead raccoon under there. (Or worse, a wounded one.) Until I know for sure, the chickens will have to stay inside the coop. They won't be happy, but at least they'll be safe.

As for me, my hands are still shaking a little bit. It was very easy to type all of this because my fingers are moving quite nicely inbetween the shaking parts. My husband called from the office a little while ago. I told him this whole story and he could hardly believe it. Then he said he's going to the next Gun Show and buying me a rhinestone-studded purple rifle for Christmas.

Life in the country. It's supposed to be peaceful and quiet and serene. As my dad would have said: Baloney!