First Baby Raccoons of the Season, and Probably Our Last
At 6:45 this morning, LL and I saw the first of this year's baby raccoons. It was Little Mama who brought them by. She has three magnificently cute cubs. They didn't come up on the deck and so I didn't get pictures of them; they instead huddled in a pile at the base of the hickory tree about fifteen feet away. They did eventually approach the deck but couldn't figure out how to climb up, so they instead called their mother back. The call of baby raccoons is hard to describe; it's a sort of cooing noise combined with the sound of a sad puppy. Little Mama responded instantly, and LL and I watched as the lot of them trundled back into the brush.
There are few things in the world cuter than baby raccoons, I have decided. Think kittens with bushy, ringed tails and wearing black bandit masks with fur that looks like its charged with static electricity and you've got the general idea.
I'm glad that we got to see them, though it prompted a comment shared by LL and I about how sad we are that we won't get to watch them grow up as we have the cubs of the last two seasons. We leave here in just five more days, today included. Despite their being wild animals — a fact that we do keep in mind in our daily interactions with the beasts — the raccoons have become like extended family. Some of them have learned a few words, including "cookie." We've watched two generations grow up and while we don't come in physical contact with them (one should not pet wild animals for any number of reasons), we've spent a good deal of time interacting in every other way. It's sad to think that after Saturday, these many wild creatures with whom we have established mutual trust will no longer be part of our lives.
