Charlie grabs a peanut, Felice sits on her Butt

They gather.
From woods, from glens, from treetops and burrows.
They gather.
Some climb, some crawl, some burrow, some scurrow.
They gather.
The cornucopia appears and nothing is questioned.
They gather.
To feast, to dine, to munch, to mind.
They gather.
Each year the cycle continues, the cycle completes.
They gather.
Not counting as as other, as threat.
They gather.
And take, and give, without asking,
Because answers are few
And survival is all.
They gather

 

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.

 

Kits at the Tray

Each year (this video is from a while back) we sigh happily when our local mothers introduce us to their children.

Not sure if I ever shared this (human) anecdote:

I often walk Boo (our dog) past school bus stops and chat with the kids and parents.

One of the kids told me she wasn’t allowed to talk to me.

Concerned, I stopped her mother (we routinely wave at each other when driving past). I asked if I’d somehow offended her or her family, or if her kids felt threatened by me.

She was shocked and confused.

I explained.

She said she’d talk with her daughter, and added all the parents in the neighborhood tell their kids to go to our house if something happens and the parents aren’t around, or if the kids don’t feel safe.

It was my turn to be shocked. Susan and I never did anything to intentionally demonstrate that, and knowing we’re the “safe” house in the neighborhood is an immensely gratifying experience.

Seems raccoons agree.

 

Chowing Down at Chez Carrabis

Sometimes The Wild blesses us in ways unexpected.

Here we have an example.

Food placed in trays for raccoons is snarfed up by birds.

All sorts of birds.

Okay, not pterodactyls.

Okay, pterodactyls are not birds.

Bird wannabees, maybe?

Bird forerunners.

Yeah, that’s better. Bird forerunners.

Doesn’t matter, really.

Except I’d rather have trays full of birds than pterodactyls.

(but imagine the videos that’d make…)