Quite the Life (and all in Times New Roman 10pt!)
Wonderful creatures they.
And music connoisseurs.
Most people don’t know that.
Percussion is there thing (remember Thumper? Prince with the Swift Warning?) and sometimes they broaden their scope to other instruments.
Most often they tend to voice when they explore.
Sometimes, if one listens carefully, one can hear them harmonize when they vocalize.
Largely a capella, of course.
Recorded in early November 2021, our raccoons prepare for winter.
I wanted to write something witty and frivolous at this point.
Wasn’t happening.
As I type this, it is late May 2022 and so much of our environment has changed. Not just locally but in the world.
I watched Ricky Gervais‘ Supernature and Humanity Netflix shows last night. I admire him immensely, perhaps more so when I don’t find him funny. Sometimes he skates a thin edge (to me). I appreciate his humor and recognize (as he admits) there’s a difference between the subject and the target, the content and the context of his jokes.
I also recognize sometimes it’s difficult to see the two as separate, unique, and distinct.
Gervais is an active supporter of many things I support.
I wonder what he’d have to say about my work with raccoons and various other Old Ones.
Last week I wrote about Samuel, the grand old man of our local coyote pack. This week, Hyacinthe, who (interestingly) first entered out lives about the same time Samuel did.
Wild raccoons have shorter lifespans than coyote and, being open to the Universe, I appreciate this is probably her last season with us.
I’ve often wondered where The Wild go to pass.
Is there a Raccoon Graveyard somewhere in the woods behind our house I’ve never found?
When Samuel walks the Blue Path, will I find his trail marks in the grass and come upon him deeply sleeping never to wake in this world again?
Our world shrinks…exponentially? Definitely geometrically. Humans have affected the environment far more than via an arithmetic progression, me thinks.
As our world shrinks, so does theirs, only more so.
Human – Two-Legs – extinct species only slightly quicker than we extinct ourselves.
And here in the first quarter of the 21st century, I’ve noticed we’re damn good at it.
And finally, the patriarch of our local clan, Samuel. Samuel visits us fairly often and usually remains offscreen, as noted in Feasting Raccoons and an Offscreen Samuel and More Feasting Raccoons and Samuel Still Offscreen.
Samuel’s been with us for several years now. In the ways of Coyote, he’s a grand old man.
Which saddens me. Us. More me than us.
Canis has been my friend since childhood. I see our current OverLord, Boo, aging and know he, like all things good and bad, will be no more. In this reality, anyway.
We use to keep things alive through stories around a campfire, drawings on cave walls, StoryTellers and StoryKeepers, Traveling Minstrels, Town Criers, through print and now to what can be held in the palm of one’s hand.
But not quite.
I shake my head when I see people with their mobiles practically glued to their palms.
What can be so important?
And many people, especially more now than ever before, have little to no inner lives.
I remember listening to a writer offer she wasn’t introspective at all when asked a question regarding her thoughts on something.
My first thought was “No wonder your characters are so shallow.”
I will mourn when Samuel passes. When Boo passes.
And I wonder, who will mourn my passing? Susan’s?
Will the Universe slow for a moment? Will the stars dim?
No.
Except for those in true friends’ hearts.
Welcome to Chez Carrabis, the only wildlife 24×7 in our neighborhood.
This night, this scene, reminds me of my days long-haul trucking. No matter the weather or time of day, rack up the miles, deliver the goods, pickup the next load for backhauling.
I (and most others I knew back in the day) preferred traveling at night. Less traffic. Staties pretty much knew who we were (we had regular routes) and would let us pass by way over the posted limit.
I remember meeting one fellow who told me he clocked 120mph+ on the Queen Victoria from Montreal to Toronto and down onto Detroit.
Wow (on so many levels).
My personal best was Sydney, Nova Scotia, to Washington, DC in 17 hours. This was before the Trans-Canada went to Sydney and, if you remember the roads back then, you’ll appreciate I was low altitude flying.
When we did stop (rarely), it was in midnight diners that catered to long-haulers.
Made some good friends. Excellent teachers, they. A few years later the CB craze started and the air got polluted so we found other ways to talk to each other.
And a bit after that, I was completely out of the game.
Sad, but I still remember those good times, good friends, and good diners.
Eat hearty, all.