The joys of parenthood. Even when it’s expecting parenthood. Expecting^10 parenthood.
Regular readers know we’ve been working with raccoons almost ten years at this point. This first mention in this blog is Raccoon Mother Hecate back in 2017 in Heckie, Sheldon, Veronica, Porgy and Bess (the second post I published, in fact. That’s their importance in our lives).
Some eight months later Hecate introduced us to her second generation kits documented in We Got Kitted!
Our first encounter with Raccoon was Rockalina.
The above image is dated 6 June 2010. Rockalina aka Rocky came out from our pines foraging midday. Strange behavior. I worked on a porch back then and, seeing her, talked to her. She stop and look at me for a moment then continued foraging. A week or so of talking and I noticed she’d come and look for me. I got off the porch and approached her, always talking. She came up and sniffed me. I brought out some old cookies we weren’t going to eat. She cautiously took one. I put peanut butter on crackers. Big hit. I made peanut butter sandwiches. Bigger hit. We had tiny dog bones. She loved them.
She would come by at 3-4pmET every day and stand up until I noticed her, talked, and she’d come forward to get her treats.
We thought it odd.
Then one night our back light came on. There was Rocky with five kits, all standing up waiting for me to come out.
She was such a tender soul. I miss her greatly.
She also brought her sisters and aunts and daughters, who brought their kits. One year we had 19 raccoons in the backyard, most of them taking food from my hands.
It was glorious.
And it all started with one raccoon coming by in the afternoon.
Just like Hecate is doing now.
Must mean we’ll be seeing kits soon.
We can’t wait.
How are your peanuts, my darling?
Following up on last week’s table feature, this week we delve into interbeastial relationships ala Orianthe and Macon, Opossum and Raccoon, enjoying each other’s company, exchanging recipes, planning an evening of romance once they’ve had their last cappuccino and gelato.
But wait, who’s that hovering in the background? Is it…can it be… Yes, it’s Orville, donning the guise of waiter when really he’s here keeping an eye on Orianthe, his daughter, lost to the…paws…of…
Oh, heavens! A raccoon!
I mean, of all things…a raccoon.
Oh, the shame. Oh, the Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner of it.
Fortunately, prejudices and ignorance don’t abound with the Old Ones. Peace is the rule – truly, even between predator and prey. Disagree? You’ve never witnessed the selection process in full – and interbeastial relationships abound.
My prayer for humankind, that. That interbeastial relationships might abound and we, as one species among many, might prosper.
It’s Spring again. Another 365.something day tour around our own little star. Isn’t it grand? Do you take for granted your travels on Spaceship Earth? Our home isn’t stuck on some foundation with a permanent address that can be viewed on Google Maps.
No, far from it. We’re traveling. We are travelers without knowing from whence we came or where we go.
The Old Ones know this. They take nothing for granted.
Except cookies and peanuts.
From yours truly.
Opie and Opette come to dine nightly, as does Vincenzi the Fox. Gladys and her crowd come by during the day.
Most recently we’ve been guested by Verne, one of Hecate’s kits. There are two others who also come by and say hello, although usually after we’ve shut off the lights and are in bed. We hear them talking; “Pass the peanuts?” and “Is that fresh water?” and “Any more cookies?”
And we’ll see them and other Old Ones through the year and through the years. All of them come to us. We’re a house of magic. So they tell us.
We believe. Old Ones don’t lie.
Say hello to Verne, all.
Turning your back on your guests! And at the dinner table!
It may be the New Year according to at least one human calendar, The Wild doesn’t notice. Critters still must eat, Republicans and Democrats still must be hostile to each other.
One wonders how we Two-Leggers are from our non-human forebears. I mean, have you ever seen the childish behavior that gets in the way of getting things done along lawmakers and business leaders?
You have to wonder, are these really the people making the laws? Are these the people really keeping business running?
Case in point, dining.
Historically, meal time is where the most powergames occur. Not just in diplomatic and business circles, even among families.
Want to know a family’s true dynamic? Sit them around a table, see who gets to eat first, who gets to take the biggest helpings, who helps who with their food.
Want to know a nation’s dynamic? Go to a state dinner. Want to know a company’s dynamic? Go to a staff lunch or dinner.
I find such things fascinating. People spend more time figuring out the social signals than exchanging actionable information or eating.
Not so in The Wild.
You don’t want to talk to someone? Turn your back to them. Much easier and easily understood.
And no TXTing at the table, either.
I mentioned In Beryl the Community Organizer that Hecate’s kits have grown.
I wouldn’t want you to think I was fooling you.
No, Hecate’s kits have grown. Sometimes she lets them dine with her, more often it’s not a happy family. The Wild doesn’t sanction children living at home beyond their years, something they often remind me when we see Two-Legs coming to-and-fro in the neighborhood.
I explain about college loans and dwindling economy. They laugh. They ask if I’ve ever heard of “loss of habitat” or “environmental collapse”.
Touche’, Old Ones.
In any case, Hecate’s kits:
Do you noticed that not a one of them has their cellphone at the table?