Enveloped in the midnight darkness of a cloudy night, I sit on my great room sofa surrounded by the quiet of the hour.  One small light shines over my shoulder as I bend my head above my laptop completing my writing for the evening.  Butch is down the hall sleeping off the effect of last night’s redeye from Anchorage.  I’m alone.

Without warning the stillness is shattered as the hummingbird feeder crashes to the deck outside.  Then another thump and the collision of metal hitting wood followed by the sound of running padded feet.  Someone or something is right outside on our deck.  Bear sightings and stories have been circulating the neighborhood for the last week as well as news reports of three escaped prisoners from Wisconsin.  Frozen in terror, I visualize the morning headlines:  Woman Eaten by an Enormous Black Bear or Elderly Grandmother Beaten to Death by Crazed Escapees!  I’m not sure which fate I’d prefer.   

Taking action, I ran through the kitchen grabbing my butcher knife for protection and flipping the switch to flood the deck with the illumination of eight one hundred watt bulbs.   And I see  N O T H I N G!  Really?  Checking closer I find the broken feeder and the live trap sprung and laying on its side.  Paying attention to only the peanut butter sandwich in his paws as he reaches through the bars from the outside of the trap, is a raccoon happily enjoying his late night snack.

Diane Davies Lives to Write Again