The Bold One

And each year, one raccoon kit takes the risk, believes their mother’s admonishments that we’re safe (“But don’t let them touch you. You have no idea where their hands have been.”) and comes to us sooner than the others.

The others, of course, watch with furrowed brow, behind tree trunks, under bushes, back a ways, until the bold one either returns with some bounty – usually a cookie – or never returns and said kits know their mother is naff.

So far, no naff mothers.

Well, no more naff than usual.