Not Stealth!

The last two mornings I have skipped out to the coop in the morning (actually crawled but who wants that picture in their head for the day?)  First order of the day, check the trap.  Trap was sprung, bait gone and nothing inside.  How does that happen?  Figured I had a stealth squirrel or chipmunk or maybe Houdini had come for a visit.  

Yesterday was glazing day in the studio, did I mention I hate glazing but in short order to get me excited about loading the kiln and sticking my gloved hand in a glaze bucket I mixed up tests.  Glazing day starts around 9 a.m. and carried on until the kiln is full;  no surprise, 1:30 a.m.  

I walked in the house pretty tired but not ready to crawl into bed so I cracked open a jar of pickled beets, had a teeny little bowl, soooo good.  Now I was ready for bed, let the dog out, locked up the house, kicked off my shoes and headed upstairs.  About the time my foot hit the top step the little voices in my head said; Go check the trap.  My other voices said:  Go to bed you never got out to bait the trap.  Hit the sheets and close my eyes...... Go check the trap.  I obeyed as it would be futile trying to fall asleep with commands rattling around.  Back down the steps, fumble for the GIANT flashlight, slip on my shoes and walked out to the backyard.  

Shut the front door!  The trap was sprung and the biggest raccoon was staring back.  Well howdy there you chicken thieving, terror of the night and did I mention you are fat? 

There I stood in my famous blue leopard print nighty thinking....... What would Ava Gabor do?  

I knew there was no way I was going back in the house and falling asleep now that I had caught Jaws. 

Holding the GIANT flashlight between my legs I dragged the cage to the stone path.  I should have put him in a garbage can and whacked it with a 2" x 4".  Got to the path and checked for bruises on my legs from the flashlight.  Gingerly, picked up the cage and got it to the driveway.  Hindsight makes me think the wheelbarrow sitting next to the coop would have been the way to go but who thinks at a time like this?  Once at the truck I huffed and puffed and wrangled the cage into the bed.  Whoa!  I'm gonna need another bowl of beets! 

Grabbed my truck keys and headed back to Happy Acres in a distant land far, far, away.  Arriving, I realized it was 2 a.m. I was in my sexy blue coffee stained nighty and a pair of tennis shoes on a public roadway.  About this time I'm thinking the Sheriffs cruiser would be doing a drive by.  I ran to the back of the truck, dropped the cage on the ground and dragged it to the weeds.  Releasing the door I expected one ticked off ball of fur to run out and chase me to the truck.  Nope.  He sat there checking out the view. 

All this guy needed was a remote, a couch, a bag of chips on his chest and watching The Biggest Loser.  I tipped the cage, he backed in further.  I rolled the cage from side to side and finally yelled; GO!  He waddled out.   

Happy to say Jabba the Hut has been relocated, both of us traumatized and I finally made it to bed, the kiln was at 639 F. and rising.  6:00 a.m and the chicky babies are out and happy.  

Jabba

the one I caught three nights ago...... big difference!

He needs a tin cup to scrape across the bars.