A weird chittering woke me up this morning, two-ish. I had no idea what it was–sounded like aliens. I did what everyone pretty much does when faced with an alien invasion at two in the morning, namely, pulled the sheet over my ear and waited for the aliens to go bother someone else. But they only chittered louder, so I went out to investigate.
When I got out on the patio I realized three things: there was more than one alien, they were invading my workshop, and it was going to be too dark to see them–whatever they were–when I opened the door. So I went back to the house to turn on the back door light. As I came back down the stairs, I noticed that another alien chittered from the shadows. I tried to get a look, but couldn’t see anything though it sounded like it was advancing on me. I rushed up to the workshop door and gave it a quick little push with my foot, then backed away.
Okay, so I didn’t really think it was aliens, but a large skunk was a lively possibility.
Well, it turns out that our resident raccoon really does have babies! I’d left Scarlett’s catfood and water in the workshop, with a trowel propping the door open so she could go in and out. Mama raccoon couldn’t squeeze through, or at least didn’t choose to, but half a dozen little ones had kicked the trowel out of place on their way in. They’d eaten whatever was left of the catfood, made a mess of the water, and then realized the door had shut on them. Raccoons have this tidy reputation because they wash everything, including their funny little hands, but doing that makes a wretched mess of a kitty water dish.
So the little ones must have been calling, “Mommy, mah-meeeee!”, while the mother was coming back with something like “Just push the door open, you little doofuses!”