Trapper John

Before you say "Aww"about this generic raccoon, let me assure you he's not so cute at 2 a.m., moving the contents of your trash can to the roof deck and leisurely shredding and grazing thereon. Also not cute: the diseases Sparky could contract. Nor: the fact that Florida has a rabies problem, particularly among raccoons.

Neighbor Thomas and I were puzzled when we found the rubbish a few days ago. Then I came face to face with the noisy little bugger in the middle of the next night, and got a new waste can to keep him (or her, as if I gave a possum's tail) away from the garbage.

Then last night, the wakeup at 2 meant war, and I got a particular jolt of joy when I got him square in the face with the garden hose at 3 (I'd been lying in wait; I get like that when I'm sleep-deprived).

This morning I consulted with Armando, my barber and the official Key West Chicken Catcher emeritus. "Man, I wish I could help you." Buzz. "But I sold all my traps to Katha, the chicken lady, when I retired." Snip. "I'd give you one if I still had one." Buzzzzz. "My buddies and me used to go out to Boca Chica years ago and get 'em all up and down the road. Sold 'em for 3 bucks apiece over in Bahama Village." Snip. "Some old folks really like eatin' em." Buzz.

Of course I couldn't stomach that, so I went out to Animal Control on Stock Island (I'm getting far too chummy with Stock Island), and put down a deposit on a humane trap. The volunteer showed me how to bait it, set it -- and warned: "When you catch the raccoon -- and you will -- you have to call us. We'll come and pick it up, because it's illegal for you to transport it."

Ah, yes, Chapter 68A-24.005, Florida Administrative Code: No unlicensed person shall transport within, into, or from the state any wild-trapped, live raccoon. How could I have forgotten?

The Animal Control lady told me to bait the trap with an egg, so I went to Fausto's and got a deviled one. Seems appropriate.