Michelle vs. The Raccoon

It all started in the late spring, several months back.

I was on the couch reading and I heard a clamor outside. It sounded like someone was messing with the garbage cans beside the house. So, I turned on the outside light, opened the side door and what looked like a 40-pound raccoon stared at me with that "deer in the headlights" look.

"Get! Get out of here!" I yelled and he ran away.

Just another part of living out in the country, I supposed, along with the crickets, the moos, etc.

Ah... but that was just the beginning.

I had a friend over sometime after that and made us a chicken dinner. She liked hers just fine and I thought it tasted alright, but my stomach hurt afterwards and I had to take some antacids. It didn't bother her at all, so the next night, I thought I'd try a little again and, again, I didn't feel so great afterwards. With regret, I threw out two or three uneaten chicken breasts.

The next morning, I got up early and stepped outside to get the newspaper. There, in my front yard, was a tipped-over trash barrel with garbage strewn about. I had put the garbage out to the curb for Friday morning pick-up, but someone had intervened overnight. I went inside, found some gardening gloves, picked up the trash and got it back to the curb before the garbage men, er, refuse maintenance workers, showed up.

Later, I found a half-eaten chicken breast tucked away in the bushes. I had to admit that he made out real well by me.

After that, I tried sticking the trash can against the house, blocking it in with the other trash cans and the recycling bin. That met limited success, at best. If there was something in there he wanted, he'd find a way to tip that trash can over.

Cleaning up the trash one morning, I saw a neighbor out for her morning walk. She said that she, too, had had problems with the raccoon. She suggested that I try moving the trash can. If it wasn't in its usual place on his route then maybe he'd bypass it.

I took her advice and put the trash can at the top of the stairs, on the porch next to my side door. One night passed with no sign of the raccoon. The next night ... Well, I woke up to the trash can tipped over at the bottom of the stairs.

Next, I decided to better secure the trash can. I took stones and bricks and built a mini-fortress on the ground around the trash can, securing it against the fence and railing that was on the porch. That held for a night or two. And, then, yet again, I found the trash can knocked over at the bottom of the stairs.

By this time, I knew what I had to do. I needed some expert advice. I went online. I googled raccoons, trash, pest control, etc. I found several articles posted by extension offices and some government agencies in Canada. I learned that this was the time of year that raccoons had their babies and were on the hunt for food. So, it turns out, my raccoon friend was probably somebody's mama. That increased my empathy for the raccoon, but I didn't want to become the family's source of sustenance.

Well, sometime in there, I got a roommate. She had seen the results of my war with the raccoon and for the most part, decided to stay out of it. I explained to her that my Internet research had taught me that bleach was an effective deterrent to raccoons. So, whenever I put out the trash, I would take some bleach cleaner and give the garbage bag a squirt along with the outside of the garbage can. The articles online actually said to keep a bleach solution in the bottom of the trash can, but that seemed pretty laborious and it didn't seem like it would be quite fair to the guys who came and picked up the trash. I didn't want to create a biohazard for humans.

Well, the bleach solution seemed to be working. I was feeling good. One night, my roommate took out the trash and she didn't use the bleach. The next morning, the trash can was turned over at the bottom of the stairs. She blamed herself and volunteered to go out and pick up the trash. I said that was an offer I couldn't refuse.

The next night, I sprayed the trash can inside and out with bleach. The following morning, the trash can again was open at the bottom of the stairs. It seemed she had gotten past the bleach smell.

At this point, I was at a loss. What more could I do? My roommate and I joked about taking all our food scraps and putting them in a separate container and just putting it out there for the raccoon. But neither of us wanted to encourage her.

I remembered my neighbor saying that square trash cans seemed to do better than the round ones. My trash can was plastic with a lid that twisted on and supposedly "locked." But once you knocked it over, the lid popped right off.

I asked around to see if anyone had an extra trash can. Then, I went to, sigh, Wal-Mart. Not my favorite place, but, hey, I was desperate and I needed an affordable trash can.

It took me awhile to find the trash cans -- imagine that! -- and when I did, they were stacked up so high, I couldn't get one. I found a young man to help me and as he extricated a square trash can for me, I explained my dilemma. I asked if I could "test" the trash can by knocking it over on the floor to see if the lid would come off. He agreed.

We put the lid on, I knocked it over and the lid came right off. He tried putting the lid on real tight for me. I knocked it over and it came off.

"This isn't going to help you," he said.

"I don't know what I'm going to do!" I said with despair. I was seriously at the end of my rope.

Then, the young man showed me a round trash can with locking handles. You put the lid on just so and then lift the handles, which prevents the cover from coming off.

"May I try it?" I asked. He agreed.

I knocked it over. It stayed intact. I did it again. The lid stayed on!

I was thrilled. Absolutely thrilled.

When I got home, I ran inside and told my roommate to come out and see what I had purchased.

"Check this out!" I demonstrated and she was duly impressed even if she was amused by my enthusiasm. But this was it. I knew this would be the end.

It was Saturday night and I put out the trash. I put the trash can at the top of the stairs by the side door, surrounded by the fortress of stones and bricks. I secured the handle locks.

It was showtime.

I woke up early Sunday morning, about 5:30 or 6 and opened the side door to let some cool air in the house. The trash can wasn't there. I peeked outside and the trash can wasn't at the bottom of the stairs either.

Uh-oh.

I stepped out on the porch and saw something in the backyard. After putting my glasses on along with some clothes, I walked down the steps into the backyard and I saw a deer run across. It stared at me and I stared at it. It was beautiful. I felt so lucky and surprised to see this. I had not seen a deer since I had moved back here. I didn't even know they were around here. After I made no move, it ran and hopped over the fence back into the farmland.

I shook my head and focused back on the matter at hand. The garbage can was intact, lid and all, but it was far from its perch on the porch. It also was covered with claw marks, on the cover and the sides. That raccoon had fought long and hard to get inside, but to no avail. I was amused and almost giddy.

I brought the trash can to the side of the house, figuring there was no need to keep it up on the steps anymore. The next morning, the trash can was knocked over and there were more claw marks, but the lid was still on.

I took delight in telling this story to people. The raccoon had won many battles, yes, but I had won the war! Sometimes I'd try to get my roommate to talk about it, but she'd just smile and say, "It's your story, Michelle, I can't tell it as well as you can."

I should mention that one evening she and I were in the car together, she was driving, and we saw the raccoon walking down the side of the road. My roommate joked that she could easily swerve and (oops!) finish off the raccoon problem, but neither of us really wanted it to end like that.

Lately, people have asked me if I had anymore problems the raccoon and I said, no, in fact, I think maybe the season is over and the raccoon has moved on.

But then why am I writing this today?

Because on Wednesday, my roommate and I went to the seminary gym, came home, and our downstairs neighbors encountered us. There was some trash by the side of the house.

Both my roommate and I had the same thought: The raccoon got into some neighbor's trash and dragged it over here.

That's how confident we were. But, no, it was my trash can with locking handles. The cover was still attached by one handle, but the raccoon had managed to pry off the other handle. I flashed back to Sunday night, putting the cover on and thinking that the cover had seemed to go on too easily. I guess I hadn't secured completely. I hadn't put the cover on right.

So I cleaned up the mess. Last night, I took out the trash and put the cover on real carefully. My downstairs neighbors actually saw me put the cover on and we talked about it. I even tipped over the trash can to make sure the cover wouldn't come off.

I slept in late this morning; my roommate was already in the kitchen eating toast with Nutella when I got up. I opened the side door for some fresh air and at some point, my roommate looked outside.

"Uh-oh, look."

And there it was. All this shredded paper all over the lawn along with the rest of our trash. I saw my downstairs neighbor and said, "Sorry."

"It's not your fault... unless you're the one who did this."

"Yeah, like I get up in the middle of the night and get into the trash!" I said.

"If I saw you do that, I would laugh so hard," he said.

So, my roommate and I laughed about the story of Michelle the Raccon with multiple personalities. During the day she's a regular seminary student, but at night, unbeknownst even to herself, she turns into a raccoon and digs through the trash. When she wakes up in the morning, she's angry about having to pick up the trash.

And... (in the movie version) only Ellie, my cat, would know the truth. She would inexplicably hiss and bite me during the daytime, knowing that at night I turned into a wild animal.

We also laughed about the idea that the raccoon is getting smarter and maybe beginning to adapt (think rapid evolution) to the obstacles it is presented with.

So, what do I do now?

Funny stories, aside, I was not amused when I was picking up trash in 90-degree weather today. Getting shredded paper bits out of grass is not fun.

Well, my mom gave me some small bungee cords (the size you use to keep your sleeping bag rolled up) to secure the trash can to the porch fence. My neighbor says the raccoon has overcome bungee cords before, but it's worth a try.

That and some bleach and locking handles...

Any suggestions? Please leave a comment.