The pastures and woods are dry and the vegetation has switched over from the ferns and grasses of spring to the heat-resistant and dry weeds and grasses. Half the standing grasses are dead, some withered and dead.
The circle of life stuff is cutting close for the Raccoons. First a big healthy adult, suckered in by catfood, then a big boar who followed his nose early, then when the adults start thinking the kits rush in.
It's a disgusting process. Three days of killing and I'm sick of it. Ready to turn it off and quit, but if I quit too soon I just have to fire it up again when the deer are moving into rut. Better to push through to the end.
But it's not a "price war" or a "flame war." It's a real war with real victims. It's not a feat of arms. It's work to accomplish a distinct end.
A caution to those who fantasize about shooting-them-in-the-head-and-rolling-the-bodies-into-a-shallow-grave.
I'm not sure I could shoot prairie dogs.
Next I expect an empty sprung trap with the catfood dug out from the sides. We'll see.
Update: No doubt the social arrangement is in disarray after losing a big male, a big female and two kits. Raccoons have a herd pecking order and some divisions between males and female groups this time of year. I bet they wonder where folks have gone and are trying to adjust.
Update II: It's raining and 9:30 Central time. I'm sure the trap is spring. Pistol by the door in a sack.
Update: This is Part IV of the Coon War. Down below are the other parts.
