On a quiet evening in Laramie, Wyoming, what looks like a lone file cabinet sits near an abandoned barn. As the sun dips below the horizon, a commotion begins. Soon, there are paws scratching and teeth gnashing against aluminum and wood as fuzzy butts bump each other out of the way. Like desperate high school freshmen who’ve forgotten their locker codes, raccoons jostle and fiddle with various locks guarding cubbies full of delicious dog food and sardine treats. Other raccoons wait in the background, ready to pounce on any unattended…
