9 Too Many

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Last night before bed was

a beautiful Summer evening:

cool,

tranquil,

still,

peaceful,

serene.

We were settling in

for the night's slumber.

I was the last to head for bed,

when Melanie whispered from inside her room:

"Tell Dad the Raccoons are back."

I took the news

to the sleeping one,

who came downstairs

and checked out the doin's

in the backyard.

We could hear the racket

as our backyard had been transformed

into theirs.

Richard shined the flashlight all about.

"9 Raccoons"

was the count.

Even, a 'Possum

was lumbering down the path

to join the mix.

I remember

when we were married

and living away,

we would return to stay

with Richard's Mother

on the Farm.

On more than 1 occasion,

we would find her

in the middle of the night

at the foot of our bed,

"Richard, get up quick.

Raccoons are in the corn."

As a City Girl at the time,

I did not understand

her urgency.

Now a Farm Girl,

I more than do.

Corn is coming in.

Peaches are almost ripe.

Two sets of eyes

stared down at us

from their perch

in the Golden Delicious Apple Tree

which is loaded.

Chickens are close at hand.

We need an invisible bubble

between us and them.

Popular logic would just

load the Gun.

We try to be

practitioners of non-violence

in these parts.

We know that to eliminate them,

in any shape or form,

just brings in more

to take their place.

Richard quietly asked:

"If you have any way

of communicating with them,

now is the time."

That isn't a skill

I have completely developed

in my bag of tricks.

When I went to bed,

he was loading his gun,

which he did not want to do.

When I got up this morning,

he had 1 Raccoon in a trap.

When he took out the trash,

he headed south to put

the both angry

and terrified Raccoon

in a more wild place.

Once again, we face a dilemma

right here

on this little Farm.

~~~~

Glinda Crawford, 2010

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