This is Gringo, the cat with no shame.
He belongs to Lily, a friend of my two little girls. He’s sitting in a box, playing the part of the baby.
In case you are wondering, yes, he’s wearing a scarf over his head. And a pink T-shirt. And when they said, “Here, Gringo, cuddle this giraffe!” and put it under his paw… well, he kept it there. For 15 minutes.
I’d like to say Gringo was heavily sedated, or drunk, but no. He just puts up with anything. He’s not even going to be embarassed that all his friends will see this on the internet.
This is a problem, because my girls are lobbying hard to get a pet cat next year. I’ve worked rather hard to give them realistic expectations about cat nature, but this fuzzy aberration has ruined my credibility along with his own.
This morning I woke up to discover six inches of snow had fallen. And you know what that means….
Time to take down the Hallowe’en decorations!
My shame in yanking the frozen scarecrow from our front garden was matched only by the piles of unraked leaves churned up as I shovelled the sidewalk. I really was going to rake those, honest. Maybe if I put a little salt on them, they’ll melt?
Still, I’m reminded that there are others that refuse to get with the season. Last week I saw someone in a similar boat, but dissimilar tax bracket:
It was -5 degrees C, and driving past me was a dude in a 65 Shelby Cobra (so the vanity plate said - could’ve been a replica, though). Top down (do those beasts even have a top?) No hat.
Big smile, though.
I regard this as a personal fantasy dilemma: If I had a 65 Cobra, and it was winter, would I drive it anyway?
Oh, to be faced with such a decision. Perhaps the owner of such a car will let me go for a ride if I rake his leaves, or shovel his snow.
At the same time, even.
I had a rare opportunity to work from home today - meetings cancelled, lots of text editing to do, food in the fridge - so I grabbed a laptop and looked forward to a day without the TTC (which has been almost unusable in the past two weeks, but at least they don’t spit on their customers.)
Anyhow, I spent the morning hiding from the children, and in the afternoon when things warmed up I took the laptop into the backyard. I hadn’t been there 10 minutes before I hear a crash and a howl from next door - squirrels were digging up Stephen’s planters, and apparently he was dissuading them by throwing lawn chairs, or something.
Thing is, they weren’t dissuaded. Instead, three of them climbed up a tree limb above us and started hurling debris down on our heads. I retreated to my laptop, and they came screaming along the top of the fence between our houses. One of them actually fell off the fence, and landed in one of my planters (to Stephen’s delight.) Not wanting to fall behind the other two squirrels, this thing then ran right under my chair as a shortcut and rejoined the chase.
I guess he wasn’t fast enough, though - he lost sight of them and wandered off in disgust (yes, I’m learning to read squirrel body language.) Moments later, the other two emerged from hiding, ran to the aforementioned planter… and started humping.
This was not five feet from my chair, and they took no notice of my shouts of “I’m trying to work here!” and “Get a room. Or a tree.”
Somewhat of a distraction, but I’ve witnessed similar behaviour at CBC, so who’s to judge. At least I didn’t have to explain it to my kids.
Unlike last week.
My sister and I took the kidlets to the Toronto Zoo so my wife could bear down on her report cards, and the four of us ended up in the African pavilion, watching the lowland gorillas.
A crowd of children had gathered by one of the windows - one of the young gorillas had just sat down right by the window, in prime viewing location.
“Awwwww, cute!” said the kids.
And he was putting on a show, too - rolling around, and then actually standing on his head with his legs dangling in the air.
“Woweee!” said the kids.
And then, once everyone was watching his inverted form… he stuck his finger right up his ass.
“Ewwwwwww!” screamed the kids, as they ran away.
Be thankful there are no photos to accompany this post.
A few days ago, we took down our myriad Christmas decorations. Seemed a bit soon, but they really were excessive this year.
“Bah humbug,” I said.
“The house is naked!” our three-year-old said.
“Carry these boxes,” my wife said.
Anyhow, I was removing our second tree, which was on our front porch, when I noticed this ornament on the ground.
Or, half-ornament. Some creature had pulled it off the tree and EATEN half of it.
It might be obvious to you that this is not a real apple.
You may notice that it is, in fact, a piece of styrofoam covered in gold paint.
You might think that after a bite or two, said animal might have concluded it was not in fact good to eat.
But no, they ate a full half of the ornament before abandoning it.
“Can’t be worse than rice cakes,” my wife said.
Damn it!
My wonderful, impregnable, Raccoon Check strap-equipped raccoon-proofed green bin was violated last night.
It seems I didn’t cinch up the buckles tight enough, though it certainly looked air tight. The procyon horribilis managed to tip it over and top the top open a crack - enough to fish out a bag of stale bread and coffee rinds and redecorate my porch.
To its credit, though, the strap kept the lid mostly shut, so only one of the five bags inside was ripped open. I’ll have to be more careful with keeping it buckled up tight.
This isn’t over, vermin.
(The cynic in me expects that one day I’ll discover my impish neighbours have read this blog, and are sneaking out at night to open the bins themselves. Actually, that’d be a pretty funny joke. Except that they’d soon discover that raccoons have learned to key their car.)
Raccoon-proofing your garbage: A compendium of knowledge for battling and besting the backyard beasts.
Several times a week, I get someone coming to my blog via a Google search for “raccoon-proof garbage”, landing on my previous diatribe on the subject, Procyon horribilis.
I’m obviously not alone in my battle against the fell creatures. So - and this is new for me - I’m writing this entry strictly for those frustrated Googlers. The rest of you can get your CBC trivia, pithy anecdotes and lame stories about my kids next time around. I’m hardly running out.
I was inspired to research and write something after my sister Alison e-mailed me this hilarious, if profane, image from drewtoothpaste on Flickr. His accompanying comment:
I understand that raccoons don’t really have a choice about whether or not to eat garbage. They just make a bad mess and don’t put anything back.
You might think, “Raccoons don’t read.” Well, people don’t read either, but here I am on the internet, typing anyway.
No truer words. Though I expect the raccoons in my neighbourhood can read, are probably reading this on their Blackberries, and are developing countermeasures at an undisclosed location under my deck.
Oh, and they tried to eat my jack-o-lantern.
Why don’t I just chill out?
OK, nobody likes sweeping up banana peels, used diapers and coffee grinds, but it’s not really any worse than changing said diapers or coffee filters.
But I should mention two specific problems I have, which make the raccoon issue vexing instead of just a mild irritant.
1) Storage. I live in a semi-detached house with an extraordinarily narrow alley between it and the house next door. There’s no room for a storage shed or other clever device. And the wall is covered in vinyl siding, so I’m loath to drill holes in the wall to tie back the containers.
2) Location. My street is exactly one block from the yard where the City of Toronto garbage trucks begin their rounds. So they arrive at 7:00 a.m. on the dot. I don’t get up that early, so I need to put out the garbage and recycling the night before. Also - and this may become a later blog entry - the garbage men are not on their best behaviour first thing in the morning. They look for any excuse to avoid collecting our stuff, so bungees etc. are out.
Hence my search for a way to make the city-provided green bin raccoon proof. Read on.
Scope of the problem
Torontoist claims that Toronto has one of the largest raccoon populations of any city in North America. Wikipedia says they are second only to the grey squirrel here. On average, they weigh 25-30 lbs.
According to the Toronto Humane Society, many people believe Toronto has a lot of raccoons because of all the parks and ravines, but the real answer is garbage (read: food.)
Toronto is known as a “clean” city, but it still has enough readily available garbage to support a very large raccoon population. The city is able to provide necessary shelter (in the form of attics, chimneys, garages, porches and mature trees) and a convenient supply of food from your garbage. The number of raccoons in an area depends on the amount of available food and shelter. If one of these factors is reduced, the raccoon population will decline.
(Of course, the Humane Society also says, “Raccoons cannot cause problems unless people allow them to do so. Instead of blaming them, we should work together to find a solution, satisfactory to both humans and raccoons.” Well, fuck that.)
Raccoons are built for getting into your garbage. The Project Wildlife website says:
Raccoons have keen senses of smell and hearing. They are strong and agile, hence good tree and fence climbers. Each foot has five long and slender digits, which operate with remarkable dexterity. In the wild, they use their front feet for finding food in water, opening shellfish, and conveying food to the mouth. In adapting to human habitat, they often apply this dexterity to opening garbage cans and pet food storage containers.
What’s more, they pass on their nasty habits:
Zoologists attribute the raccoons adaptability to transmission of culture, a mammalian trait this creature has developed to a high level. The young quickly pick up new skills from adults and then can make their own adjustments or adaptations to new circumstances.
Because I’m sticking to the garbage issue, I’m not going to get into the diseases (Baylisascaris roundworm, canine distemper, parvovirus and rabies) and other problems (attacks on pets, damage to houses, gardens, etc.) associated with raccoons.
Green bin grocery
Today more than half a million Toronto houses put organic waste in a separate, green container for compostable food waste.
Though almost all downtown residents know how often raccoons get into the bins, the city seems to think it isn’t a big deal. They did a survey of 900 Etobicoke homes that bordered golf courses and ravines (this decidedly does not describe my neck of the woods!) to see if the bins were opened:
During the four weeks that curbside set-out was observed, only seven bins out of 900 were opened. While one can’t be sure exactly how they were opened or by whom, it appears that raccoons were not a problem. The City followed up these findings with a further inquiry to Toronto’s Customer Service staff, who verified that from January to July, there had not been one complaint about raccoons getting into green bins from those homes audited.
So, we must all be imagining this problem, I guess.
When city officials introduced the green bin program, they swore on a stack of bibles that they’d be raccoon-proof. They’ve since toned it down a little, claiming it is “designed to be animal-resistant.”
Here’s what the Green Bin FAQ has to say of the container:
It is durable and has a tight-fitting latch. In fact, the latch on the bins produced for Toronto, East York and York has been further tightened to resist the prying claws of various animals like dogs or raccoons.
Meaning they didn’t really work.
An article published on the excellent CBC Unlocked site (created by locked-out journalists like myself during the 2005 CBC lockout) exposed the latch issue further:
The biggest problem was the latch. It was stiff and raccoon-proof at first, but became easier to open over time.
A wise friend told me that all green bins have not been created equal. He had two, one that opened with the flick of a finger, and another that required hands of steel.
But Norm “Trapper” Torrie, who makes a living catching raccoons, said business has never been better since he began five years ago.
“I’ve yet to hear of any raccoon who can’t open a green bin,” said Torrie of Racoons.ca.
“They get on top of the bin and pull the latch up,” said Torrie. “Raccoons don’t turn their wrist the way you and I do. They always pull. What green bins need is a sliding latch, but even that I’m sure raccoons would solve.”
Though the problem is usually with the green bins, the Humane Society site says that different garbage cans help keep raccoons out of the garbage, if that’s a problem. “Garbage cans with twist-top lids are the best deterrents. They are available from hardware stores at a reasonable price.”
Alternate latches
While claiming the green bin latches are fine, the city green bin site admits that extra measures may be needed.
So, rather than offering a better bin, they sell you an upgrade.
To provide additional security against persistent pests like raccoons, the City provides residents with the option of purchasing a latch lock addition to your current green bin latch. This extra latch costs $9.00 and is available at the same Works Yards serving as recycling container pick-up locations (PDF) and at local Community Environment Day events (not Home Hardware stores). It comes with easy to follow installation and usage instructions.
This mystical latch was in development longer than the space elevator, and I’ve never seen one. I called the city today (416-338-2010), and was told that they are “white plastic latches called Raccoon Latch”, and that they CAN be bought at Home Hardware.
However, they weren’t available at my local Home Hardware, and they aren’t in the Home Hardware catalogue. In fact, they don’t appear to exist on the internet at all.
There is another product available there, though, and my aforementioned sister - always the wiseass - bought one for me for my birthday.
The product is called Raccoon Check, a nifty strap and buckle system that bolts onto the lid of your green bin. It costs under $8. It was developed by Toronto residents Warren Walker and Jim Millar, and is getting rave reviews.
“Raccoon Check is the first really effective system for keeping raccoons from turning your trash can into a smorgasbord,” says Jane Wall, Product Manager for Home Hardware. “It’s simple to install. It’s easy to open and close. And unlike bungee cords, which don’t work that well anyway, you don’t have to worry about that springy, whiplash effect.”
Though I’m the first one on the street to install one, other residents of my neighbourhood seem happy with it too:
“It’s so satisfying to see the green bin laying on its side in the morning knowing I don’t have to clean up what would have been a disgusting raccoon-made mess,” says south Riverdale resident Mary Ann Sievert.
I found the device easy enough to install in about ten minutes. The instructions say you need to drill holes in the bin to put the bolts through, but I found the green plastic soft enough to just poke an awl through. Then screw in the straps (which come adjusted to the right size for a green bin) and you’re good to go. I’ll let you know if it works.
The CBC Unlocked writer tried it too:
My own solution, after nearly abandoning the green bin for old-fashioned composting in the back yard, was a woven strap called Raccoon Check, purchased at Home Hardware. It’s not the city-approved latch, which is still in the works.
Garbage collectors have no obligation to undo the strap for dumping, but so far they have.
The day after I’d mounted the new strap, I walked out onto our porch to see our green bin lying on its side by our neighbour’s air conditioner about six metres away. It had been pulled down our stairs and dragged through the garden. I could tell because a deep groove was cut through the dirt.
It was not open.
See, there’s the rub: the garbage collectors don’t have to unclasp the simple buckles, because as with bungees, the city says “the collectors don’t have time to do so.” And in my neighbourhood, trash collectors would view this as a reason to skip the whole block.
A rep from the city tells me that garbage collectors WILL unlock the “raccoon latch” clasps - if you can find one.
So, alas, I’ll still have to get up at 6:55 a.m. every Friday. But at least it won’t be to sweep up the mess.
Other methods
People have tried everything from bungee cords to moving tape, string, chain, nylon stockings and weights to keep the bins shut, usually without success.
From experience, I can say that the usual M.O. for a raccoon is to knock the bin over, using the weight of the container to pop the lid open. They are often able to slide bungees and string aside just enough to pull garbage out. To keep your garbage upright during the week, here are some suggestions gleaned from the web:
1) Make it harder to tip over
If you use a bag (strictly optional) to line your outdoor green bin, make sure it is completely tucked into the bin when you set it out; otherwise the edges may be used by animals to pull the bin over, but more importantly you want to avoid any food residue left on the plastic from attracting animals.
Source: Toronto Green Bin FAQ http://www.toronto.ca/greenbin/faq.htm
A simple and very cheap way to keep raccoons out of your garbage. Simply hook the securely closed garbage pail a few inches above the ground, against a wall. To pry open lids the clever animals use leverage by tipping the pails over, then using their wieght and position to knock the lid off. This way, the pail swings back and forth but never rests horizontally - frustrating the masked creature into submission. I’ve watched and it works for me.
Source: WhyNot.net http://www.whynot.net/ideas/269
To prevent cans from being knocked over and rolled around, secure the handle to a metal or wooden stake driven into the ground.
Source: Project Wildlife http://www.projectwildlife.org/living-raccoons.htm
Another neighbour anchored eye-bolts into cement, and hooks rubber straps from there to the green bin latch.
Source: CBC Unlocked http://www.cbcunlocked.com/artman/publish/features/article_523.shtml
2) Make it unavailable
When you take your bin to the curb is important. If you know you’ve had a problem with animals, rather than putting your bin out the night before pick-up, wait until early the next morning and put it out before 7:00 a.m. on your collection day (raccoons usually feed at night). If you store your bin in a garage or shed, make sure the doors and windows are closed.
Source: Toronto Green Bin FAQ http://www.toronto.ca/greenbin/faq.htm
Keep garbage bins locked in the garage until the morning of pick-up and reduce access to the underside of decks where they will burrow and nest, suggests Ohio State University Extension’s website. Raccoons only need an opening of 2.5×4-inches to gain entry.
Source: Home and Garden http://homeandgarden.canoe.ca/Homes/2005/07/04/1116754.html
3) Discouraging smells
As a last effort, place an inch or so of ammonia-soaked newspaper or rags in the bottom of the garbage can and sprinkle cayenne pepper on top of the garbage to discourage raccoons. Handle ammonia carefully, and keep in mind that it is toxic to children and animals. The ammonia is intended to deter raccoons with its odor, not to injure them.
Source: Project Wildlife http://www.projectwildlife.org/living-raccoons.htm
Make a raccoon den unlivable. Sprinkle naphtha flakes or predator urine around the area or hang ammonia-soaked cotton rags near the entrance and keep the area brightly lit. Raccoons dislike loud noises, bright lights and strong smells. Use the same methods in your garden or in the area where you keep your garbage or composter.
Source: The Gable’s Raccoon World http://www.geocities.com/rainforest/vines/4892/raccoonfaq.html
Place mothballs, ammonia or pour hot pepper sauce at the bottom and around the outside edges of your composter or garbage container.
Source: AnimalHealthCare.ca
(I’ve found that a little Lysol spray works well too, at least for garbage pails.)
There you have it. A little long, a little obsessive, and I still haven’t found a way to stay in bed on garbage day. But it’s been a week without having to clean up the side alley, and that’s a start. If you have any anecdotes or tips, I’d love to hear them.
Paul v. nature, part three…
Spiders. Damned, dirty spiders.
I remember a Far Side cartoon that featured two spiders that had spun a web across the bottom of a children’s slide at the park.
“If we pull this off, we’ll eat like kings!” one said to the other.
That’s the sort of spiders we have outside our house. Full of ambition, relentless tenacity, an no brains.
They congregate in three places:
- By the back door, where they rappel like Navy SEALS from the top of the door frame whenever it is opened. Freaks me out every time I take out the recycling (otherwise known as feeding the raccoons)
- By the front door, where every single night they string a single, invisible thread across the porch steps, right at face level. Every morning, I get clotheslined by the thing, and flail my arms around in a manner that makes the neighbours frown and cross to the other side of the street. Worse, my wife tells me that she finds the exact same thing - and she leaves for work an hour before I do. Which means that either I’m taller than her and find a new snare, or the spiders are actually resetting the trap between 7 a.m. and 8 a.m.
- On our car. Specifically, between the driver-side mirror and the door panel. No matter how often I sweep them away, they are always there the next day, glinting merrily in the morning light. These strands are strong enough to withstand Don Valley Parkway airstreams. One time I took the car through a touchless car wash, and they were still there on the other side. I suppose the author of this web is trying to catch all those Don Valley Parkway bugs, which would be like stopping a 120 kph bullet - a feat I have no doubt they could pull off.
Of course, Halloween is approaching, and what did my kids spend all weekend doing? Yep, decorating the front of our house with fake spider webs.
Laugh now, but keep your eyes open next time you are passing through the east end in the morning. If you see a crazy person flail at invisible assailants, then leap into a car that has been webbed firmly to the sidewalk, wheels squealing helplessly as an army of arachnids watch and laugh… keep on driving. When I’m dry and desiccated, you’ll be next.
Last night we had an intruder. Again.
My neighbourhood is beset – plagued, I tell you! – by raccoons.
Not the cute little Timothy Goes to School raccoons my kids think are so lovely. Not the trilling, big-bummed fuzzballs my sister finds endearing. No, these are hurricane-grade destructive brutes.
Like any good Toronto citizen, I diligently use our green bin for compostable waste – banana peels, coffee grinds, nasty diapers. I bag it neatly and tie the bags off, and put them in the green bin until Friday.
Or, until 2:00 a.m., nightly. Because that’s when these marauders come to disassemble my house. They knock over garbage cans, chew on the woodwork, and make short work of these “raccoon-proof” bins.
So this week I’ve been extra-diligent. I bought a brand new green bin (the old one had been attacked too often.) The clasp on this new bin is so tight I can barely close it without a hammer, and I need the jaws of life to open it. I even washed it down, and sprayed it with Lysol. Once the compost bags were in, I affixed three bungee cords over the lid. Then I put a 30 lb concrete patio stone on the top.
2:00 a.m.: CRASH. I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Outside was a raccoon the size of a Shetland pony. He didn’t just knock over the patio stone, he cast it down and smote it.
He then began dragging the bin down our alley (my wife, now awake, thought he might be dragging it to the curb to atone for previous sins.)
I managed to chase the thing off (and take a few pictures – he owes me at least a blog entry), but it came back later and finished the deal. Cujo managed to get out all the tasty stuff, then flung the nasty diapers all around just for fun. The patio stone was damaged, and somehow the three bungee cords were still attached.
I’m defeated. These raccoons are smart (Harvard ‘04) and strong (I think they’ve been eating my neighbour’s expired creatine packages). I once saw a pair of raccoons working as a team to open the garbage bin outside a KFC outlet in the Beach. I kid you not – one would sit on the top and hold the spring-activated door open, while the other climbed in to retrieve the food. Astonishing.
There’s supposedly some “raccoon proof” clasp that you can buy to attach to the formerly “raccoon proof” bins, but I can’t imagine it’ll stop them for long. In fact, I suspect the raccoons are behind the whole scam (and I saw Tom Jakobek taking a raccoon kit to a Leafs game last year.)
(When she reads this, my sister is likely to lay another “can’t fight nature” zinger on me, and suggest that I simply move my house. But her mind was poisoned during prepubescence by reading Frosty: A Raccoon to Remember too often.)
Or maybe the raccoon will just post a blog comment himself.
I ride my bike to work whenever the weather is good. My preferred route in from the east end is along the bike path on the north side of Lakeshore Blvd. (It takes a few minutes more than going straight along Queen, but I get to see ducks and rabbits instead of streetcars and prostitutes.)
The bike path is pretty decent, with one irksome exception: an enormous bump caused by a tree root growing under the path.
This bump has been there for years, at least as long as I’ve been cycling that path. At first it caught me completely off guard, with a bone-crunching thud followed by my bike being launched into the stratosphere like something out of BMX Park.
I quickly learned to give the bump I wide berth. Soon after, I noticed that someone had helpfully painted the upper ridge of this escarpment with white spray paint. Later on, it was marked with yellow paint. Then someone added a grid of yellow contour lines (is the thing computer generated?). Then a yellow runway approach arrow was added. For a couple of weeks, there was even a pylon beside it.
It reminds me, in a painful yet nostalgic way, of the dearly departed Gardiner Hump. They placed permanent warning signs around that sucker too, but it took years before anyone actually fixed it.
Which makes me ask the same question about my hump: why make so many trips to warn people about it, and none to fix it?
OK, so the people who put up the warnings were probably cycle Samaritans, not city workers – though I can’t imagine nobody has ever complained to the city about it. And perhaps the stripe painters don’t know how to fix a pothole themselves.
Of course, the problem won’t go away for good until someone severs the tree root, which is probably tricky and, for some cyclists, morally repugnant.
But if you let a tree get away with tripping you with its roots, what’s next? Thorns in the eyes? Clotheslining your throat with branches?
Give these things an inch and they’ll take an acre. Teach the brute a lesson, before it’s too late!
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