Muskrat Love... or something
You know that nighttime noise that often woke me on garbage night?
Last night, the night *after* garbage night, I heard it again.
Only this time, it was only 8 PM or so. And E was awake.
I brought him to the area of the house where the grinding of the gravel on the roof was loudest and he agreed.
SOMETHING was up there.
And it sounded big.
We took the mag light and ran outside to investigate.
We rushed out and surely would have seen something or someone flee, but from the sides of the house, no matter what the angle, we saw nothing.
And then, E climbed on top of the fence, shined the light and started laughing.
He laughed so hard he couldn't speak.
***laugh***It's***laugh***Racoons.***Laugh***You know...***laugh***Doing racoon business****
And then they ran away.
And then E felt very bad.
Oh... I feel sorry for him. I interrupted his night of fun...
I, of course, took the feminist side, His? His? night of fun?
uh... both of their fun. I feel bad for both of them...
And thus, another great mystery is solved. Also, I now know, which I probably could have guessed from the great raven/crow debacle, that 40 pounds on our roof, rubbing around on the tar & gravel without the muffling of any attic or insulation, sounds like well over 100 lbs.
So, no more fear. It's just animals, doing animal things. On our roof. Of course!