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EJ Rotert (aka Squib)'s Blog
March 2009
Friday March 13, 2009
Posted by: EJ Rotert (aka Squib) at 5:46PM CST on March 13, 2009
Friday the 13th, for me, is inexorably linked in my mind to one thing: an animal, like Jason, that wears a mask -- that wily trickster, the raccoon.
When I was 12 years of age, a raccoon attacked me on Friday the 13th, biting me about 10 times.
I was playing street hockey (actually, we were playing in a backyard) with my brother and a friend. In the course of the game I ventured over near a tree in which the raccoon was climbing. Growling loudly, it promptly darted down the tree and chased me across a yard. To this day, I believe I would have put enough distance between myself and the raccoon to where it would have quit chasing me; unfortunately, while running away I tripped over a tree root sticking out of the ground. Realizing I would be caught, and being without my hockey stick -- which I had apparently dropped -- I turned to face the raccoon, planted myself, and kicked with all my might with my right foot when the animal closed near enough. But the animal dodged the kick and grabbed my upper left ankle in its jaws. Reaching down, I grabbed the animal with the hope of getting my hands around its throat. But it squirmed and squirmed, thwarting me. In the meantime it kept biting away, eventually making Swiss cheese of both my hands.
By this time, my brother and our friend, Danny, had made it over to the battle to help. They started hitting at the raccoon with their hockey sticks, the raccoon trying to duck the blows. Myself, I picked up my own hockey stick to strike the raccoon as well, only to have the stick slip from my hands. My hands had been bitten so many times I couldn't work the muscles to grasp the stick.
The raccoon finally eluded the gauntlet of sticks and broke into a run across the yard. It was then that Danny's older brother, Sam, showed up. He had carried the goalie stick over with him, and as the raccoon was bolting, heaved the stick toward it. The stick skimmed a few inches over the grass for about 15 yards, barely sailing over the cowering raccoon as it ran away.
Why was the raccoon so much more protective of its environment than usual? Turns out it was a female that had several kits in a big dead tree next to the one in which it was climbing. Firemen found the babies when they showed up to catch the raccoon so it could be tested for rabies.
Looking back, I guess I got my just deserts. The day before, I had been bumming with my cousin Richie. It was on that day that we first saw the raccoon in the big tree next to the one in which its babies were later discovered. Recognizing a target for some fun, Richie bent down and picked up several rocks and started throwing them at the raccoon. Being the younger cousin, I followed Richie's lead. After both of us threw several rocks, we tired of the challenge of tagging the raccoon and went on to something else.
What about Richie? That jerk got away with not having to eat his dessert.
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