Hyacinthe (Again)

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.

 

It was a dark and stormy night

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.

 

Fat and Sassy

The families return.

This middle fall visit thrilled us because…

Because we’re easy. Especially when it comes to The Wild. Show us Old Ones of any stripe or form and we’re there for them.

Probably faster than we would be for most Two-Leggers we know.

Sad, that.

Much like Jules Verne’s Captain Nemo of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea fame, we’ve found interactions with our own species less than optimal and often less than minimal.

Not so with The Wild. I’ve walked among wolves and bears, been close to mountain cats, never a worry.

Smile incorrectly at a Two-Legger?

All hell breaks lose.

It would be great victim mentality if I thought the fault was mine.

But I’ve given up doing so.

 

After much waiting (Raccoons)

I often mention our concern when the wildlife traffic diminishes in our yard.

Such diminishing follows seasonal patterns, we know.

Compound seasonal patterns with construction and global warming, and we may not see our friends until far into seasons.

This concerns us.

Last week I mentioned our concern for the turkeys last week. This week we’re glad to see our old friend Raccoon bringing his Shadows to us.

 

Our Concern for the Turkeys

We take such comfort from our guests.

Knowing they feel safe means so much to us.

Long ago…okay, not really all that long ago…a neighbor told us we’re known as the “safe house” in the neighborhood.

“All the parents tell their kids, if anything happens and you’re not sure what to do or just scared, go to Susan and Joseph’s house. They’ll help you.”

Note we were never asked if this was okay with us. It kind of just happened.

Left me scratching my head. “Huh?”

I think it started when we first moved into this neighborhood. One young lad, Ollie, always came over after school to talk with me. I thought he sought academic guidance as we often talked about school happenings. Each visit, he politely asked where Susan was.

I noticed his visits were shorter on the days Susan wasn’t around.

Then one day he confided, “You’re wife’s awful purdy.”

Thank you, Ollie. You do understand she’s with me, right, kiddo?

Ah, the stirrings of adolescent infatuation.

And meanwhile, the turkeys take comfort with us.