A city deer in its natural habitat ....

.... next doors garden. I'VE (a very self righteous "I'VE") plunked sage in here and there, so they're not quite so fond of mine.

But they're rampant. It's a bit of a worry because cougars have them for dinner. Every little rustle in the underbrush is cause for alarm when deer are near. It's usually just raccoons, but rustles in the underbrush can lead to heart failure.

I had an awful fright some years ago.

It was a dark and soggy Saturday, November 2003. We'd been indoors all day, curtains drawn. I happened to peek out the back at one point. There, across the lawn, were things ... strewn. "What's that?", thought I. So, out I go, across the lawn to inspect the thing furthest from the house. It's a soggy t-shirt. I'm thinking, "Cor! That'll wash up nicely". And off I go to the next thing, and it's a ... baseball hat? ... well, I won't be wearing that, but there's still a possible outfit conjuring. Next thing, right up close to the house is a sodden ball of purple cotton. I pick it up, shake it out .... IT'S A PAIR OF MENS UNDERPANTS!!!! I look up from the pants and there, not five feet in front off me is the door to the crawl space underneath the Kipper and it's WIDE OPEN!!

I drop the pants and run headlong back into the house! I'm hyperventilating in the middle of the kitchen. Fred's most alarmed. He says, "Mum! What's happened?!" I whisper rather loudly "I THINK THERE'S A MAN LIVING UNDER THE HOUSE".

(brief aside ... never, ever, ever tell your young child that you think there's a man living under the house, even if you think there is).

So, with Fred's arms and legs glued up and down and around my middle I stump over to the phone. I dial 911 and whisper rather freakishly "THERE'S A MAN LIVING UNDER MY HOUSE".

"What's your address" "We're on our way" "Are your doors locked" "Are your windows locked" "Where are you in the house" "Stay there" "We're nearly there" "Don't open your door" "I will tell you if it's the police at your door"

Sirens come over the hill, cut as they enter our dead end, four cars screech to a halt where ever they please, cops bound forth, "Where's the access point?' whispers one.

Fred and I are clutched together in the kitchen and we can hear them outside shouting "COME OUT NOW" "IF YOU DON'T COME OUT WE'RE COMING IN" ... and then!!!! THE DOGS ARRIVE!!! Dear oh dear. We could hear the dogs yelping and scurrying about under the floor boards!

Eventually it all went quiet. There was a knock at the back door. "WHO IS IT?" I shout. "Uhhhh, the police?"

So I open the door to a dozen policemen and three man eating dogs.

"You need to put a lock on that door to your crawl space. Raccoons know how to open doors".

*facepalms*

But really, how crazy does something have to be to be making a nest with mens underpants? Raccoons are right nutters.

Anyway, bit of venison wouldn't go amiss right about now.