The raccoons haven’t left; I was fooling myself before thinking they had. I haven’t seen them, but I see indentations in the mulch from animal footprints right where I last found them. I’m sure it’s them. I know it’s them. And I don’t know why this bugs me so much – personal space issues, I guess.
I’m afraid I’m going to end up like Granny, Jed Clampett’s mother, in my pursuit to get rid of them. I didn’t tell you before, but last summer I heard something on the deck late one night. Hoping it wasn’t some clumsy burglar (although that would be the best kind), I peeked out and saw two sizable raccoons trying to get the drip pan out from under my BBQ. I was so mad I ran downstairs, grabbed a broom, made a ton of noise as I opened the door and yelled at them to get the hell off my deck.
Personal space issues.
I’m going to try the ammonia-soaked rags next, and someone recently told me she’s using moth balls in her mulch to keep a cat out. Maybe it will work for these critters, too? I might learn to accept nature better if it would just stop messing up my stuff.