By Nancy Cowing Umphres

It was a cool Saturday morning and my son James was helping me stretch a new shade cloth across the two bobcat runs. I had to enter the javelina run in order to fasten the cloth to that side of the cage. The two female javelinas that live in this large tree-filled enclosure were very cautious at first, but once they realized who I was, their study of human anatomy began.

The wind had picked up and the shade cloth began to blow about with wild abandon, which thrilled the two bobcats that proceeded to jump and pull at the flapping fabric. As my son and I cursed the wind and the spotted felines, the javelinas had decided to remove my shorts. I worked at a frenzied pace tightening and tying down the cloth while wishing I had worn jeans rather than loose shorts. As the sweat began to run down my face memories of a similar episode came back with much clarity.

It was about 12 years ago and that morning had also started out cool and refreshing. We were in a typical spring animal overload, with every cage full. I had just taken a tea break after the morning feedings and was heading back out to finish up. My husband Robert had also taken a break from mowing and was still in the house. As I walked toward the old raccoon cage, I noticed one of the juvenile raccoons was just about to escape through a loose section of wire.

I rushed to get a hammer and staples, and I again had to enter the javelina cage in order to repair the raccoon cage. At that time we had a young male javelina named Orson who had come to us after being captive raised. He was a friendly fellow, but maybe a bit too friendly.

By the time I reached the area that needed repair, the raccoon had almost managed to get his head through the hole and was about to push himself to freedom. I knew I could eventually catch him if he escaped, but I also knew he would make it a long hot marathon of jolly good fun on his part and exhaustion on mine. I had almost forgotten about Orson in my rush to prevent the escape.

As I pushed at the wire and prepared to hammer the first staple, Orson began to lick my leg lovingly. I was positioned in a tight corner near his large mud puddle, and as I raised the hammer to give the first whack I slipped in the mud and sent the hammer flying outside the cage.

I strained to reach through the wire to retrieve the hammer and as I did this the raccoon decided to continue his escape. At this point I had to give up on the hammer and hold the wire tight to keep him in. Meanwhile Orson had decided to have a mud bath before returning to continue to bestow his affections upon me. The temperature seemed to have risen a few hundred degrees, and I had begun to realize that I just might be in a rather bad predicament.

I made a few more feeble attempts at the hammer that was just out of my reach and every time I tried the raccoon took the opportunity to make a break for it. By now, Orson’s overtures had become increasingly passionate. At this point I began to yell for help.

Thirty minutes later my yells had turned to screams and still no one had heard me. By this time I was covered in sweat, mud and something else I would rather not mention. In my dazed mind I began to think that the coon and javelina were working together.

Forty-five minutes later Robert decided to head back to his yard work. He heard muffled sobs coming from the javelina pen and went to investigate. I lay pressed against the raccoon cage sobbing helplessly.

I suppose it was a humorous site now that one can look back upon it, but Robert didn’t have to laugh quite so long. My threats of violence finally brought him to his senses and he was able to rescue me and fix the cage. Orson and the raccoon retired to have a nap and I hit the shower and prepared to have something a bit stronger than tea.

James and I finished tying down the shade cloth as I held onto my shorts for dear life. This time I managed to get out of the pen with a bit of dignity left. Oh, the joys of wildlife rehab.

(The Zapata Wildlife Rescue Center can be contacted by mail at 6812 STOP 68A, Zapata, TX 78076-2913, by phone at (956) 765-8526, or e-mail at dreams@zapata.border.net. Those interested in visiting should call ahead for directions.)