The Raccoon, The Turkey, and the Coyote

My buddy Sgt-Marks-A-Lot sent me the most hysterical, well-written parable about why God does not condone cross-species marriages:

Libby/Blanche,Please forgive me. Delete this if necessary. This is a true story, I swear to God. I worked for a biology teacher during my high school years in the Midwest. He maintained a "live room" at the school which included skunks, possums, raccoons, a coyote, a beautiful red fox, a disturbed (justifiably) macaque monkey, rats, mice and two turkeys.

After caring for many of these animals for a year he put me on salary and suggested that I report for duty during the summer as a camp counselor at a city park where the animals were housed while he was not teaching.Transport of the animals from the high school to the summer camp required cages, assistance from a city employee, and use of a city vehicle.

The vehicle was a defective, forest green, Ford Econoline van with a 3 speed transmission.I reported to the city on a blisteringly hot June morning and was introduced to my assistant, Bob. We were issued keys and with little effort located the van. I asked Bob if he wanted to drive but he declined. The van was difficult to start but after much fooling around we got it going.

We drove to my high school but on the way it became clear that the heater controls in the van were defective and that the heat was full on and there was little we could do about it. Even with the windows open and the fan turned off, it was 95 deg F in the van and we were miserably hot.

Back at the High School live room, I coaxed the reluctant animals into the transport cages without too much difficulty and then asked Bob to help me load them into the van. He confessed that he was terrified of animals and even with gloves on assisted only when necessary.

The first trip went pretty well. I had selected animals that were easy to handle and took care to place them in the van next to benign neighbors. At the summer camp I transferred them to their vacation runs/cages without difficulty.

What followed is all my fault. Due to the number of animals it was necessary to make a second trip from the high school to the city day camp. On this trip I faced very serious problems. I had left a significant group of "hard cases" for the second trip. The monkey, for obvious reasons was transferred to the best cage available and he drew serious blood when transferred. My assistant, Bob, shut down completely at this point.I had another serious problem on my hands. Not enough cages.

The turkeys, 40 lbs each, although difficult, were unwieldy birds and when confined in the back of the van, barricaded by cages could cause little problem.

My instructor had a tame, full grown boar raccoon named Ricky. He was like a dog, but resourceful. I loaded him into a cage judged sufficient but within 10 minutes of leaving the high school he had joined me in the front seat of the van by squeezing through an impossibly narrow gap in the cage.The heater was working well. We were making good time at 60 miles an hour on paved road west of the Missouri. It was about 100 deg F outside and close to 105 deg F inside with the windows open.

My assistant Bob was terrified of Ricky. Rick made several attempts to bond with Bob but Bob was glued against the passengers side door rigid with fear.Ricky was damn hot, that coonskin coat was doing him no good so he climbed onto my lap. He hung his head out the window of the van and gradually eased out into cooler air, too far. I grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him back in, rolling up the window and leaving the vent window open. Ricky moved his snout to the vent window.

All was tranquil for several minutes and I was lulled into a momentary feeling of well being. Suddenly, Ricky lunged forward, slithering out of that wing window and I grabbed one of his legs holding on for dear life.The van left the highway at an angle and dropped down a 5 foot embankment without rolling. Cottonwood trees flashed by on each side and a shower of water shot over the windshield as we moved through a swampy patch. With one hand locked onto Ricky's leg and the other on the wheel by some miracle we climbed the embankment and lurched back on to the pavement where we pulled over and stopped to evaluate our options.

There was nothing to be done about Ricky. Bob might as well have been dead, rigor mortis had set in. With all windows now closed and the temperature approaching 110 deg F we started off again. The trusty heater was doing it's job and the air in the van was filled with motes, feathers and hairs from the miserable panting cargo.

As we turned onto the spur road leading to the Day Camp a tremendous ruckus set in at the back of the van. The white broad breasted turkey, strutting in territorial glory, had thrust his head into an opening in the coyotes cage attempting to peck his neighbor. A furious beating of wings ensued with an outcome that I can only leave to the reader's imagination.Some of the other Day Camp counselors assisted with unloading the animals. It took several months of hard work to regain their confidence.

Trust me, Libby, you don't need no stinking turkeys!