night noises, and not the good kind

We woke up several nights ago to the most horrendous noise we had ever heard. It was beyond screaming. We both bolted out of bed, sure there was an animal in the henhouse, slaughtering the girls.

As we ran out of the house, the screaming continued. I realized halfway to the coop that it wasn't coming from within, but from the trees surrounding our yard. My only thought was that some creature broke into the henhouse, grabbed a hen (or four from the sound) and was murdering them in the trees. When I got to the coop, all of the girls were huddled in a corner with their necks stretched up, peeping at me. I counted once, twice, three times. They were all there. If they were all there, what in God's name was making that sound.

I ran out of the coop and started pacing the outside, wondering if something had been trying to climb the fence and scared the chickens. I was vaguely aware that the screaming had died down. Sean called me from across the yard. His voice was tight. "Noel! Come over here. They're in the tree!" "What is in the tree, Sean?" His voice got tighter. "I don't know what they are."

That never makes me feel good. In my mind, Sean knows everything having to do with The Great Outdoors. If he doesn't know what they are, then they are clearly some sort of rabid, horrible fanged, death creatures that drool acid. He tersely said, "They are looking at me."

My maternal instinct went into overdrive. THEY? Who is THEY and they BETTER get out of my yard with my chickens!

I stood next to him. He was shining his headlamp into a tall pine. Sure enough, green shiny eyes about halfway up. There is nothing more unsettling than two flat, shiny discs halfway up a tree. Unless you count the one about five feet above that one, then the one that was about ten feet up from that.

Sean said, "I'm going closer." The eyes blinked off and on as he slowly made his way there. "Raccoons!" he shouted. "They are raccoons!". We sighed. Now we knew what was eating all our bird seed, the compost and destroying our recycling shed. Raccoons. We have lived here almost 13 years and never had them before. Bad news for chickens. Raccoons will eat them, but they didn't want them that night. They were fighting, which was the awful racket we heard.

After a few minutes of watching them, and them watching us, we decided to go back in. We'd figure out what to do about the marauders in the morning.

As we laid side by side in bed, listening for any sounds of raccoon destruction, Sean's hand grabbed my arm. Out of the darkness I heard "I *HATE* eyes in the dark!!".

I know just how he feels.