As I mentioned previously, we hunt JRTs. Raccoons provide challenging sport for JRs even tho they are physically outmatched (raccoons can be upwards of 30 pounds compared to a JRs 15 pounds). The following is a story of one of our recent hunts that went a little over the edge...

About a month ago, we were told of some local farmers who were dealing with some pesky raccoons they wished to have removed. They live at the base of the Tetons on a large farm with picturesque buildings, small streams, and dozens of apple trees. On a sunny, fall Sunday morning we leave our home in the valley and head up to the mountains, terriers, shovels, picks, and crates to relocate any live quarry. As we drive into their lane we realize this is raccoon heaven. After scoping things out, we enter a terrier in one of the old buildings and soon hear some very deep growling (remember the exorcist) below the plank floorboards. This is not any pesky raccoon, this is a very serious, nasty raccoon.

After assessing the situation, we realize the only way to access the dog is to lift up the plank floorboards. This done, we remove the dog and find not one, but THREE, nasty, pesky raccoons about five feet out of reach within the subflooring. Now we do what any reasonable bunch of people would do - we drew straws. Only one of us can have the priveledge of laying prone on the floor and snaring the raccoons as they bolt out of the floorboards toward our face. The honor is awarded to Dick Fenton, a dear friend and experienced terrier man. Dick assumes the position, readies the snare, aims...the raccoon bolts, he pulls the snare closed and...MISSES! We didn't plan on this - what is plan B? The raccoon runs across Dick's chest and dives straight toward me, with the biggest toe nails I have ever seen in my life. I did what any experienced terrier person would do - I screamed and kicked it off. In the mean time, the other two coons decide to "carpe diem" and we now have 3 coons, 4 people and 1 dog in a small building the size of a large out house. Two of the coons exit the building to the cheers of first time hunters and other interested on-lookers.

Now, this would have been an interesting experience for most first time terrier hunters, but not for our friend Karen. Karen is a first time terrier hunter with a major adrenelin problem. Her dog, Merlin, is very much like his owner. Merlin spots the raccoon and decides to have a go at it himself. He lunges from Karen's arms and chases the raccoon into a nearby stream. Merlin jumps into the stream and sets about trying to capture the raccoon. Just as the coon drags Merlin under the surface of the water - his fate about to be sealed - SPLASH! Karen to the rescue. Glacial runoff, no problem! She scoops up Merlin, but...Karen doesn't stop there...No! She grabs the raccoon by the tail, DOG - screaming and thrashing in one hand, and COON - whirling about its tail in her other hand. It was a major Kodak moment. The rest of us are standing on the bank of the stream (terriers included) dumbstruck. Karen is wading towards us with a very nasty, pesky raccoon in tow. Walking with this menagerie is not easy. As she continues toward us, we begin to worry about our own safety, PLOP-SPLASH-SCREAM-BARK-GROWL. Karen, dog, raccoon...all, fall back into the stream. Now, its our turn to rescue Karen and Merlin...from themselves. Wet, sloggy, and very jazzed we call it a day. I'm glad we don't hunt terriers at night!