Two weeks ago we noticed some strange thumping in the recesses of our house. We’re no strangers to animal invaders in our home. We’ve dealt with bats, mice, spiders, and a host of other critters in our various homes over the last 10 years, so this didn’t seem like a big deal. I’m like Snow White, animals just merrily follow me. I think it’s because of my angelic singing… Most of the time, the pests entered while we were doing construction on the house, and by the time we got everything buttoned back up, it was all ok. However, one night we realized the thumping seemed especially… heavy. We quickly realized that THIS particular animal was either extremely active or exceptionally large. Over the winter we had noticed a couple of spots on the back of the house where soffit had either been torn away or damaged somehow by weather, and we knew that before we’d had a chance to patch up the damage an animal had made a cozy home in the deep dark corners of our attic.

Only a day or two later, I was home alone one night trying to sleep. A bizarre chirping kept me from the peaceful slumber I longed for. As an extremely dorky person, I obviously knew that birds sleep at night. Birds chirp in the evening, they chirp at dawn, they never sing at night. Strange. I finally was able to ignore the noise enough to dose off and the next morning I all but forgot about the incident. Until… that chirping woke me at 3am the following night. LOUDLY! I started up out of bed and realized that the chirping was coming from the back wall of the closet in my bedroom. WHAT?!?! I ran to the computer and, based on a hunch, started googling raccoon noises and… sure enough! There was a raccoon nest behind our closet wall. Annoyed, I tried to sleep, but the noise was quite loud. I finally resorted to turning on a fan and the white noise of the motor was enough to drown out the chirping.

The next morning I googled Raccoons and read about a million posts on how destructive raccoons can be in a home. A sinking feeling of doom settled into the pit of my stomach. We had to get it out! I posted a cry for help on facebook and got a great suggestion from my friends the Sniders. I called American Animal Control and they sent a man out a few hours later. The first thing he asked me upon arrival is “Has she had her babies yet?” Hmm… he’s assuming it’s a pregnant female. That’s not good. “I don’t know” I replied, “We just hear chirping in the wall.” “Ma’am, chirping means babies.” Shoot! From my reading online I knew that mothers would crawl out on their own, babies would have to be retrieved. An eventual hole in the back wall of my closet was inevitable. Awesome! I thought he’d set his traps right away and we’d have a raccoon in the trap the next day, but when he looked at the house he saw that she had created 3 entrances to her den. He told us we’d have to seal two of them and then set a trap at the third before we could effectively trap her, retrieve her kits, and then move them to a new home in the country. Oh boy!

My brother came that Saturday to seal two of the holes. However, when he climbed the ladder to set up to work at the first location, two beady little eyes were staring at him from the darkness. He quickly came back down the ladder. A thorough examination of the house, including several trips into the deep recesses of the attic revealed that if we closed off that hole with her in it, she would be trapped and unable to get to her babies. So… we waited. At one point I came outside to check and see if she’d made the passage from the Western Wall to the Northern Den and I found her hanging out of the hole from the waist up. Her eyes bugged out of her head, she froze, and we stared at each other startled for several seconds. Slowly she backed back into her hole, and I backed into the house. Eventually, after several hours, she felt safe enough, or possibly panicked enough, to make a break for it and run to her babies. The holes were sealed and the trap was set.

I felt pretty confident that she’d come out to find food that night and we’d have a trapped mother in the morning. Once the mommy was trapped the babies could be removed through the wall. They’d all be reunited and off to their lavish home in the country. That was almost a week ago…

Since then conversations in our house have revolved around “her” and “them”. Have you heard her today? Did they chirp last night? Do you think they’re ok? How is she surviving without coming out for food? Do you think she found another way in and out? The vague references seemed so impersonal, so I decided we she name her. David’s first suggestion? Calliope!! Yes, like the annoying circus organs. “uh… no! That name is ugly, does not fit her, and you’re never allowed to participate in the naming of any of our fictitious children!” I finally persuaded him that Calliope, a four syllable name, was just too long. (Not to mention that she’s obviously skittish, nurturing, and everything that a calliope is not… in a good way.) My contribution to the name suggestions was Catherine Zeta Jones. I felt it had everything we needed: sex appeal, a nod to her role in Zorro (she’s masked, get it?), AND it sounds really freaking cool. I mean, just imagine this, I could tell my friends, “Catherine Zeta Jones is living in our attic!” Doesn’t that sound tres chic? Our little friend immediately sounds like a fabulous guest and not so much like an unwanted invader. However, since it is 5 syllables and I had already vetoed a name with 4… I lost that battle.

We settled on the name Rosie the Raccoon, and named her kits Rascal and Rouge. We are sure we hear at least two in there. We can name any additional spawn of Rosie if and when it’s necessary. The only problem is, I think that naming the vermin has caused a much too personal connection. David happens to think Rosie is “cute” and has even mentioned “keeping her”. Ha! Really, she’s ripping up our house. She has to go… but, it’s true. We kind of like her.

So, now we wait…

We’re waiting for Rosie to emerge from where she’s been squatting in our home so that we can kindly evict her. We’ll take her to a lush new forest home. I promise! Please Rosie, come out and play! We’re nice, really!!

I was able to get two shots of Rosie on Saturday during the perilous time that she was trapped, separated from her kits. I bet there could have been a pretty epic movie soundtrack for those hours. Lots of footage of her pacing nervously and the babies crying… It’s all very Ratatouille.