It is so good to hear that some of you still remember my raccoon (and bird) stories. I do so wish that I could start a new raccoon story. Those were the days. Heidi, the leader of the raccoons and mother or grandmother of most of them, died some years back. I had fed her every evening for years. She had become as much a part of my family as Widget (my dog). I had learned SO much from her over the years and had developed enormous respect for her wisdom and skills. I grieved for some time after her passing, knowing that things would never really be the same without her around.
Every year Heidi would bring her new kits to my home to eat and play. I bought dog toys for them to play with and kept a kiddie pool full of water to keep them entertained while 'mom' ate. The 1st year or so the kits also made a 'fort' out of a couple stacked bales of pine straw I had placed near the pool and a sandbox of sorts out of a nearby compost pile, a play area I came to think of much like the kids area McD's used to have, a place for the kids to play safely nearby while the moms were eating.
Heidi came to trust me a great deal over the years, so much so that she would take treats from my hand and would allow me to play with the tiny babies of which she was otherwise very protective. Because she allowed me to handle the kits while they were so young, they grew up to be very comfortable around me but still knew to fear all other humans, rushing back to the forest at the 1st sound of neighbors outdoors. Each year as the yearlings returned with kits of their own, this bond of trust between us continued to grow. In many ways I became almost accepted as a part of their group, such that they were comfortable just being themselves around me. This allowed me to observe things which people don't normally get to see.
I observed the group very carefully, as I was truly interested in their behavior and their lives, plus I wanted to be able to convey to the readers here at DG what I was seeing. I learned many unique things about their behavior and unraveled some aspects of their day to day lives. It was a most magical time for me. I spent an hour or more sitting out there in the dark with them each night (for years), often with tiny kits standing upright at my knee (paws on my knees at times) and even one climbing in my lap. Sometimes I was completely surrounded in the darkness by 20 or more wild, adult raccoons who were so close they were brushing against me but never aggressive - well, that is, except for Dennis (who turned out to be a Denise) who was always very mischievous and would sometimes try to steel my bag of grapes so she could have them all for herself.
Over the years I learned some of their 'language'. I developed the ability to recognize each individual as easily as we recognize other humans. Out of what had at 1st seemed like a bunch of carbon copy animals with the exact same coat emerged over time a myriad of diverse shades and styles, from Reba with her rich auburn stripes to Diva with her long, luxurious 'mink' coat and Bast with the short cropped, taupe colored fur and long sleek cat-like form. Suddenly, it seemed almost impossible to think that I had ever had difficulty distinguishing between them. And each had her own distinct personality, from the timid Fraidy to the ever mischievous Dennis and the huge but incredibly gentle HRH, the only adult male ever allowed at the Raccoon Buffet.
After something like 8yrs of coming to my house every night to eat, missing only a night or two each year when giving birth, one night Heidi showed up with a strange behavior which I immediately knew to be a very bad omen. As she ate that night, she kept moving her hips/abdomen in a strange and very slow repetitive pattern. I didn't know why, but as I watched her I had a very bad feeling about it. That evening I reached out to pet her for the very 1st time ever, and she offered no resistance at all. She didn't even tense her muscles in response to my touch. She had come to trust me that much.
She didn't eat as much as normal that night. She would nibble a little and stop to sit a while before nibbling some more. When she left that evening, I never saw her again. Every night for weeks, months even, I rushed out in hopes that she would be there, but she never came again. I still remember her fondly. I like to think that I brought even a portion as much good into her life as she did mine.
