During a recent warm spell, I walked around the yard making a list of things to do when spring arrived. I glanced up at the roof just in time to see a furry head emerge from inside the house. A raccoon.
The little bandit had ripped away the shingles and chewed his way into the ceiling. I could tell by his attitude that he had moved in and was ready to set up housekeeping.
I had previous experience with raccoons. None of it good. Let’s just say feeding your cat outdoors is not a good idea. When raccoons come to your house, they come with lofty expectations of being fed and housed.
In a panic, I Googled, “Raccoons”. I learned that ammonia on a rag will drive them out. I soaked paper towels with the stuff and shoved them into the opening. My eyes watered for hours. I could only hope the raccoon suffered equally and packed his bags.
The next step: Close up the hole. I knew if I covered it with shingles, the varmint would be back and rip them away again. Instead, I cut a piece of sheet metal, coated it with roofing cement and nailed it snugly in place. Job done. Or, so I thought.
That night we were serenaded by a frantic raccoon running from one end of the ceiling to the other trying to find a way out. I had trapped him inside.
Morning brought with it what I can only describe as a “kill-or-be-killed” resolve toward our uninvited guest. I set up the stepladder outside and removed one of the vents in the soffit. Hours later, I saw evidence that he had left. I replaced the vent and held my breath.
It’s been four uneventful days and nights now. Maybe in another week I’ll breathe again.
Forgot to turn on tracker for editing.
