The following was written by mom:
Usually Bill brought home wild creatures to heal or care for, but at times he would bring home things that had died or been killed for the kids to see up close. One of those was a large Snowy Owl ( I think, at least it was LARGE and pure white). He was so proud to show it to the kids. They gathered around as he laid it on the kitchen floor, spread its wings and was showing them the head, tail, wings etc. Suddenly, the dead owl stood on its legs and launched itself into the air! So much for DEAD critters!
We did have one animal, not from the wild, but raised in captivity. Bill brought home a blind raccoon that the original owner could no longer keep because of complaining neighbors. The poor animal was born blind. The original owner was a hound hunter and had shot the pregnant female. As he was skinning it, he discovered a live baby and took it home and named her Lucky. Even though she was blind, she managed very well with her keen sense of smell and "feely" fingers.
The kids immediately fell in love with her and she them. She was fun and funny but was extremely inquisitive and got into everything! Being so, she was also quite destructive and eventually I told Bill that he had to pen her or get rid of her. So, making sure it was escape-proof he built a fine pen with a nice "run." Telling her how lucky she was to have such a fine home, he left her there. Before he reached the house, she was beside him, demanding attention. Back to the drawing board.
After many tries, he accomplished the job, but she paced back and forth making pitiful sounds. Back and forth, lifting her head toward the house, back and forth. "Please Mom", the kids begged, "she hates it out there. Can't we bring her in the house?" Being a softie, I relented and she became an indoor pet for short periods of time.
One day, after a shower, Bill stepped out of the bathroom, in undershorts, barefoot, directly on to the raccoon. Frightened, she latched onto his big toe with her sharp teeth! His howl of pain could be heard for miles and frightened her even more, causing her to tighten her hold. I ran down the hall to see Bill hopping up and down, wildly trying to shake loose his attacker, howling, hopping, pleading for help. It was too much, too funny and I couldn't help but break up with weak-in-the-knees uncontrollable laughter.
Slowly, Bill made it to the front door, dragging the snarling, hissing raccoon still firmly attached to his toe. Across the porch they went, down the steps,----thump, thump and to the lawn. (remember, he's in undershorts). Grabbing a stick, Bill pried open the locked jaws from his toe and bolted for the door. Back in the house he came, limping badly, looking for sympathy but provoking new peals of laughter.
The raccoon found a new home.
Editors note: As I recall, that's not exactly how this story ended...