I'm Afraid of Raccoons

I spoke to my new neighbors this evening. She, Michelle, answered the door, and I said, "If I say the word raccoon to you . . ." and she interrupted me.

"Yes," she said. "I saw one on that fence."
"Last night?" I asked.
"No. The night before. I got my camera to try to take a picture of him, but that scared him and he dropped into your yard and ran."
Oh great, I thought. But I said, "Well, he was on that fence again last night. I opened my window and yelled and scared him, and he dropped down into your yard."
Oh great, she must have been thinking. But she said, "Really?" And she looked slightly alarmed.
"Yes."
"He is a big one," she said.
"Yes." I mentioned where there's one raccoon, there are more. I mentioned they are very destructive and can be dangerous. I was thinking of their two boys and their two girls, and those boys might not know to stay away from a raccoon, if they saw one.

And then I told her a capsule of the story about when the raccoons had their nest under her front porch. Of course, that was years ago, when Phil Jones lived here. I told her about his trap, his catching a cat and then a raccoon that was really mad in that trap. I told her about the places under the high eaves on my house where the raccoon is trying to scratch his way into my attic.

All the things I told her were clearly new concepts to her. She called to her husband. "Jason. Come here."

He was incredulous--close to scoffing--about the possibility that raccoons had ever nested under their porch. "It's all closed in," he said. "There's no way they could get under there."

I showed him where. And, because anyone could see the possibility in that place, he could see it. I told them I had seen the big raccoon three times come from their yard into mine and, when I scared him, he moved into my other neighbor's yard. I told them I want to get rid of the raccoons but don't know if anything works very well. I said, "And you can't kill them." She said, "No. Animal rights."

Sidebar: I went across the street earlier today and told Shirley I was trying to figure a way to send the raccoons over to her side of the street. Just kidding. Sort of.

But truly, I'm not sure what to do. I read a lot online today, and the consensus is that traps rarely work. Witness: The trap, complete with the marshmallows and whatever else he said that raccoons love, that Rudy put in my yard and removed a week later. Undisturbed.

Repellant, bright lights, loud noises all may work for a while. But raccoons are smart. They figure out that those things are really no danger to them. And they keep coming back. But just in case, I sprayed all along that fence today with chlorine bleach. I have no idea if it will any do good at all. But it's something.

I'm not making this stuff up, you know. I didn't say that to them. I'm just saying it to you.

To them I said, "I'm not sure why I'm telling you, except so that you'll know."

And then I said, "Welcome to the neighborhood." We all chuckled. Guardedly.