Coon story

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MeekandMild

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Probably everybody here knows I hate feral cats. They kill birds, especially baby birds and one feral cat can kill 500 songbirds a year. They breed like rats, carry feline leukemia and several other diseases including one, toxoplasmosis, which causes birth defects in humans. Plus they come around and beat up my cat to get her food.

On the other hand coons don't seem to bother the cat even when they get into her food box and in the woods they usually concentrate on crawfish, frogs, mice and other ground critters.

I was surprised one day to catch a half grown coon in my feral cat trap. So I loaded him up in the pickup truck, trap and all and took him out to the lake to release. Every time he saw me he hissed at me and made as if to bite anything I got near the cage. Until we got to the lake that is.

Once we got there and I opened the cage door, using a stick so he couldn't bite me. It took some time as I was having to lever the little wires which wedge the door. He caught on and reached his little hands out to try to help me push down the pieces which were in the way. Then when the door finally sprung open he took one look at the open door and one look at me. Then he waited. So I said, "Go on, get out of here."

I swear he made eye contact and nodded his head at me, then he waved, almost a salute before he waddled out the door and disappeared into the underbrush. :p

In my estimation a coon is smarter and even wiser than a lot of the people I know.
 
Quote: "In my estimation a coon is smarter and even wiser than a lot of the people I know."

Agree. Pretty sharp critters. But sometimes we humanoids may not be selective enough about the company we keep. ;)
 
They're not bad critters when they're still wild like that one seemed to be. Once they lose their fear of people its a whole different story. They can be alot like the feral cats you hate so much.
Long as their in the woods I don't have a problem with them.
 
What amazes me is how adaptable coons are in an urban environment. I spent a few months in Oakville, Ontario (near Toronto) back in '96 and '97. There were literally hundreds of coons living in the trees along the lake shore, up suburban streets, etc. You could see them walking around as if they owned the place. Squirrels got on fine with them, but an awful lot of cats came to bad ends challenging a coon for ownership of a plate of cat food! :D They seemed to have no fear of humans, too: I've walked right up to a tree where two coons were screaming at each other about who got there first, and they just turned their heads, looked down at me (from only a couple of feet away), hissed warningly, and went back to their mutual slanging match.
 
Ok, I have to throw out my own 'coon story to affirm that racoons are smarter than people. (at least some people)

My family owns a ranch in central Texas, for years we entertained ourselves by hunting rabbits at night with a spotlight. On occasion you would encounter a coon but we never bothered them much.

Now, back in the early 80's, my sister married an over educated, city raised boy, that didn't know sic 'em about country life or animals. We reluctantly took him on one of our rabbit hunting expeditions.

We had shot a fair number ofo rabbits and had drifted down near one of the tanks when my brother spotted a large coon near the waters edge. He looked at me and said "Lets let Ron (my sister's husband) have a shot at him."

He shot a couple of times and the coon had no reason to be afraid. Shots kicked dirt up yards from his position. He must not have liked the noise though because he started looking for somewhere to climb.

The nearest available "tree" was an old cedar post my granddad had used to run electricity to the tank to run a pump. The wire had long since been removed but the 9-10ft post was still there. So the coon heads up to the top of this "Tree" only to discover there is no ther place to go. We skid the pickup to a hault, I put the light on him, and my brother is grinning from ear to ear.

He convinces Ron that we are going to catch this coon. He has Ron stand at the bottom of the post to catch the coon when he knocks him off with a stick.

Now I don't know how many of you have ever seen a cornered coon, but this ole boy was not happy. When my brother started poking him with that stick, it didn't help his disposition any either. All this time Ron is standing down there with his arms outstretched waiting for this highly agitated coon to come down. I'm watchin all this play out from the truck with the light and egging them both on.

About the time Mr. Coon was getting really mad he took a swipe at the stuck that was jabbing him and was caught off balance and my brother got him off the post. He fell straight down on top of my brother-in-law, who caught him......then looked at us and said "Now what do we do with him?"

To say my brother and I were dumbfounded would be an understatement. We looked at each other not knowing what to say....it wasn't supposed to go this far.....he was supposed to get a few claw marks, release the coon, and scream at us.....but he still has a death grip on this coon that is thrashing around, and my brother and I are at a loss for words. Finally I say "Throw him in the toolbox!" ROn carries the coon over to the pickup, I open the lid to the toolbox and he throws the coon in and I slam the lid. Coon caught. And nobody knows what to do with a highly agitated coon locked in a toolbox.

My brother tried vainly to make up a story about what we would do with the coon. And I quietly let the coon out of the box after everyone went to bed. And we don't pick on my brother-in-law as much anymore.


Smoke
 
He wasn't the one that had some 'splainin' to do.

My sister knew better, my brother and I are the ones against the wall on that one.

To fully appreciate the type of guy we were dealing with I'll relate another story.

My sister started dating this ol' boy while he was an undergrad at Texas Tech. The first time he was to meet the family at the ranch my sister cornered my brother and me and laid down the law. When he arrived we were to be on our best behavior. No belching, no farting, no cussin' no drinkin', no dirty jokes, no snuff dippin', no crude manners. She told us what we were going to do and how we were gonna do it.

When he showed up he looked like your typical undergrad. Beard. Coke bottle glasses. Kinda sissy acting. Hippy looking.

He was ever so pleasant and mannerly. Kissed up to everyone. We figured he was trying to show us up.

My brother and I did as my sister asked.....for as long as we could.
Then we had to get out of there. After lunch we had had about enough of acting proper. A couple of ranch raised boys can only take so much of being nice. I caught my brother off to the side and said " I got a coller full of beer in the pickup, wanna go to the creek?" He was agreebale so we start trying to sneak out. We were almost out the door when my sister caught us and asked "Where are y'all going?"

I said " down to the creek for a bit"

She said "Invite Ron to go"

-damn-

So I did, and of course he wanted to go. We get int he truck and go down to a place on the creek that we always went to shoot turtles and just mess around. Now me being the littlest child and the wildest, when we got there I just decided I didn't give a crap about making impressions anymore and I took a big ol' dip of snuff, spit a stream of juice onthe ground, grabbed a beer and offered one to Ron. He accepted it and I figured he's just trying to fit in. My brother got a beer took a big pull and since we had just finished lunch that beer got to him. He rolls a pretty big kinda belch up. He tried tostop it, but it was one of those just-had-a-big-lunch-and-a-beer belch. The kind that starts at your toes and freight trains its way out your mouth. So much for manners. I grinned at my brother and we go on like nothing happened. After we get to talking to Ron for a while and we are all on our 3rd beer, right in the middle of the conversation Ron just lifts his leg and rips the biggest, nastiest fart I ever heard.

ANd he goes right on talking!
No "Excuse me."
No "Pardon"

Nothing. Acts just like nothing happened. And there was no denying it. Hell it was obvious and intentional. I was rolling on the ground, my brother spit a mouth full of beer 41 feet, and Ron is looking at us like we're daft.

He said "y'all act like you never saw anyone fart before"

I told him "We were lead to beleive that not only did you not fart but your crap didn't stink either." I laid the whole story out of how our sister had read us the riot act on personal behavior. We were just glad to see he was human.

Ron has continued to provide countless hours of entertainment to the family. Even though we have accepted him....he still ain't right.


Smoke
 
Smoke :D

Though I'm in the city, I have a heavily wooded area in back of my complex, in the front I'm a stones throw from a resturant. We have coons, as Preacher said, quite adaptive and entertaining.

Had a Resident Mgr that got into the habit of leaving food for the coons. Started getting spoiled by the scraps and later the dogfood. Mgr's wife really spoiled them because they always ate supper at the same time, therefore the scraps/dogfood were expected at a certain time.When they would BBQ the coons would watch an wait from about 10 ft.

Now they live on the ground floor, the french blinds in the living room cover the patio door. Fall arrives as does the time change. They are watching TV, Supper is cooking...rap rap on the patio door. Huh? again rap rap, they open the blinds to see the coons , being civil , but wondering where supper is...I mean you guys are late. Mgr swears it dawns on him what the deal is when the momma seems to look at her wrist where a watch would be worn ---Time change and they are hour late with supper. Wouldn't have been so bad until the wife tries to explain the time change to the coons...he is cracking up, and the coons listen...yeah so what lady --you gonna feed us or what
 
Coons

The resturant had a simple pc of wood that held the wooden gate shut. One coon would get onto the shoulders on another , flip the latch and head to the trash.

Owners decide to put another latch that requires one to twist a turnbolt, to retract the bolt in the post now. I'm out front when the coons make their nightly jaunt. Coon jumps down and looks at the momma..."latch is changed" . Momma gets atop the shoulders of the little ones, studies it, and in a short time uses both paws to twist the turnbolt. From then on the little ones knew what to do. Puzzled the resturant owners. We here at the complex were not going to tell...too much entertainment.

If a coons had a thumbs...no telling what they could do.
 
My wife and i wanted to spend a quiet night camping at the west Pinnacles in central CA. It's a stunningly beautiful area with large rock formations all over the hills.
It seems the ranger leaves at 4:30 PM. The Soledad, CA locals use the place to party after work. We were subjected to a barrage of Banda music and loud talking for several hours. They left the parking lot stinking of urine and beer.
When we were finally able to relax, I broke out a bag of Hawaiian potato chips. These were my favorite snack. As I sat at the picnic table eating my chips I heard a rustling sound on the bench right next to me. A coon had grabbed my bag of chips and run away with it.
I put the flashlight on him and started throwing rocks. He moved just far enough into the brush to avoid the rocks, but he seemed determined to eat the chips in front of me. He sat in the brush and ate them just like I would have. He watched with obvious curiousity but no fear as I jumped up and down while cursing him. It was a fustrating night. I bought a sling shot the next day, vowing to get even but never saw him again.
 
Once, camping at Plaskett Creek in Big Sur, CA I had brought along the econo sized bag of Chips Ahoy. Mmmmm. I left it out on the table and went on a quick nighttime jaunt to the bluffs to check the surf. Upon returning I found the bag of Chips Ahoy considerably lighter, empty as a matter of fact. There was only one small quarter sized hole on one end of the bag. That little rascal just snaked the cookies out of the bag one at a time.

I've been back there since and I always keep an eye out for an overweight diabetic toothless 'coon so I can even the score. A well placed magnum frangible shotgun slug would make me feel whole I think....yup, sounds about right.
:evil:
 
When they would BBQ the coons

re1973, I know this isn't what you meant, but a little town here in Arkansas has a barbequed coon festival every year. Thousands turn out. Tastes like barbequed chicken:D .
 
OOPS, darn punctuation. My excuse-- I had been doing Access projects.

Ok, when the Mgr. and his Mrs would be BBQ'ing, (comma) the coons would be watching.

Oh the Gillette Coon Supper. Oh yeah, BTDT. Big shindig, Politics, prison rodeo band, and yep, I pigged out on BBQ coon.

My motto, " If it don't move off the plate, or make a move toward me...its eaten.".

Its that "try everything once dealie as a kid". Kinda stuck. Granted I might not eat some things again , I will try new things.
Yes I'd eat coon again.
 
It is a documented fact that Raccoon Brain size in the USA has increased 30% since the 1950s.
Close proximity to man and "Raccoon Proofing" seem to be forcing them to get smarter.

And they already have good hands.

1-2 Million years and the might become sentient.

When you see them chipping flint tools we will know.
 
Had a pet 'coon when I was a youngster . . .

Kept it chained to a stake not far from the back door. Milkman left a bottle of milk at the back door every morning. Occasionally, the 'coon would open the milk before we brought it in. I checked and the 'coon flat could NOT reach the milk bottle with his front paws. No way.

Watched one morning. The milk bottle was left in its usual place. Coon reached out for it and couldn't reach it with his front paws. So, he turned around, knocked the bottle over with his rear feet and pulled the bottle closer. Picked it up with his front paws and proceeded to remove the cap and drink all he wanted. Problem solved . . . for the coon and for me. Got a shorter chain. ;)

They are smart critters. :rolleyes:
 
Smoke, Thats what brother in laws are for.:evil: I'm thinking of taking my brother in law coon hunting.:evil:
 
Zorro,

Good points but I don't think it would really take that long given high selection pressure, a sufficient population pool and low time between ganerations.

A critter which can have babies when it is two years old will weed out the less adaptive bretheren 10 times faster than one which has babies when it is 20 years old. Fifty years is 20 generations so fifty years in coon years is maybe 500 years in civilized human years or 300 years in third world human years.

Look at dogs. Where were great danes, weiner dogs and rat terriers 200 years ago?
 
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