First-World Guilt Over Raccoons In the Attic

While my heart aches for three little orphaned raccoons, I'm still glad they were rescued alive from the attic.

The mother was trapped on the roof by pest control devices. It didn't end well for her. I'm thinking bad Kharma for me.

However, Chris and Matt, wildlife technicians, showed me the little cubs they moved out of the attic. They were in a box. I gave them a can of cat food. I had to do something for them. I felt so guilty about sacrificing their mother to the eviction process; it felt wrong.

A week or two earlier, I had watched the parent raccoon carrying the youngsters one-by-one up and down a tree that overhangs the roof, to stormwater sewers that run along the back yards here. That was a new sight for me.

Chris said the babies were now about 2.5 months old. He said the parent was probably showing them the ropes on survival when she took them outside, then carried them back up to apparent safety.

When I first saw the dedicated parent lugging the "kits" in her mouth by the scruff of their necks, I was lounging on the patio. It was daylight.

My cat was outside too. When she caught sight of another animal in the yard, she made a dash at it (territory issues I'm told.) I yelled at the cat to stop. She did. I collected her.

The raccoon dropped the cub and ran a distance away. While the baby cried out from the yard, the parent glared at me from her safe distance by the storm sewer entrance. I took the hint and went inside.

After a few hesitations and sniffs, the mother ran over to pick up the cub, and disappeared back into the storm sewer. I thought "Good, they moved out of the attic."

But a week later I saw the climbing, and carrying back-and-forth of the babies again, up and down the tree, from the roof to the storm sewer. Later that night, I heard scratching and knocking above the guest bedroom after I found the cat patrolling the room and eyeing the ceiling. They hadn't moved out after all.

That was when I called for help, pest control services. Later, I learned I could have tried first to keep them from returning with several methods suggested by Ballwin's Wildlife Rescue facility, and maybe saved a life or two. (Suggestions: mylar balloons, very loud radio music, ammonia-soaked rags.)

But live and learn.

Apparently, the parent raccoon had pried open a lid on one of four vents atop my roof. I guess I heard that one night in April, but didn't know what it would lead to, or what animal it was. I turned on the attic fan and figured I scared it off. Apparently not.

It took $1,100 and a mother raccoon's life to clear the attic.

I remember when my young daughter would ask why I killed the occasional spider or fly in the house, I felt better if I explained it like this: "Their home is outside. When they come inside where we live, this is what happens."

It doesn't really help me feel any better in this instance.