Tastes like chicken

International Talk Like a Pirate Day, Mateys! ... and Raccoons.

Avast, our hearty one 'n all! In honor o' International Talk Like a Pirate Day, I, Cap'n Can't-Grow-a-Beard, shall regale ye with my fantastical tale of... raccoons.

Allison and I are a pair o' bleary-eyed scalliwags today on account of a murderous row occurrin' outside our window before the light o' dawn this morn. I jumped awake outta our bunk, fixin' that t'were the guinea pigs fightin' in their pen, then realized that the commotion was comin' from the starboard side o' the house, just below our window. Still half a-slumber at the time, I jolted full awake with the fear that me fluffy bunnies were still outside and some a-cursed bilge animal had gotten them. But of course t'weren't the case as me bunnies were actually safe 'n sound in their cage belowdecks in the living room hold. This series of thoughts flashed by in nary a second, by which time, Allison had also leapt awake and we goggled at each other in the dark. Meanwhile, the growlin' and snarlin' and cryin' outside our window continued.

"Where's the torch," asked I, meanin' the "flashlight", which is non-pirate speak.

"Ye're not venturin' out there?" replied Allison.

"I should mark that no critters be a-dyin' in our yard. Now where be the torch?"

Allison stepped lightly to the shelf and passed it to me. "Here," said she. "Arm yerself with something, will ye? And be careful, aye?"

"Yarr," I agreed.

I made haste to the galley and retrieved me bird feeder stick (a long stick with a hook in its end fer hanging our bird feeder upon our big maple tree in the yard), and bailed out the back door with me torch lit.

The bilge creatures doin' the fightin' quickly stopped and rustlin' ensued. I scuttled to the corner o' the house and peered around like I was sackin' the fort of Jamaica and was on the look-out fer guards and such.

Yet, rather than guards, I spied a pair o' right hulkin' raccoons (fifteen stone a piece, if a one) makin' off from the scene of the crime, just walkin' as casually and ye please. One marked me o'er its shoulder as they did make their escape down the walk 'tween our house and our neighbor's, the cheeky bugger.

The rustlin' that I'd noted a few ticks earlier resumed and I gathered that it be comin' from up the tree just o'er the fence on me neighbor's side. I shined me torch up into the branches and marked a ringed tail hanging down 'n curled around the truck. The tail, of course, was attached to a third raccoon, which was huggin' a branch like a barnacle midway up the tree 'n hissin' at me.

At this point, I struck the tree with me stick just below the branch, tryin' to drive him off, but he wouldn't move. I shined me torch upon his face and his eyes glowed green 'n defiant back at me.

A fierce growlin' then occurred above me and I jumped, shinin' me torch up the house... to our window where Allison be looking down at me from her crow's nest-like perch. "Er, t'were me just now," said she. "Sorry about that."

Back to the raccoon at hand, I replayed the entire episode in me head and realized that the earlier pair o' scoundrels were likely keel-haulin' the tree-bound land lubber before me (fer whatever reason raccoons are likely to keel-haul one another; this I know not), ergo makin' him the victim. I shined him in the face again, then sheathed me stick 'n went back inside whence upon I retired to our cabin and bunk.

A few minutes later outside the window, more rustlin' as (I reckon) the scurvy raccoon made its escape from its assailants, 'n from me.

I guess I'd done shivered his timbers! YARR! <|:)