In the spring of 2017, I heard what I thought was a human baby crying in my backyard. I went out on the back porch to investigate and spotted a baby raccoon coming around the side of the house. His mother was nowhere in site. I gave him a bowl of milk, some wet cat food and table scraps, hoping that the mother raccoon would show up that night. By morning, however, the poor little guy was cowering under the porch and came out crying as soon as I went down the steps.
Later that day. I made a little house for the raccoon, using a big cardboard box and a piece of old plywood. I fed him again that afternoon and evening. The next morning he was peeking out of the doorway at me when I walked out on the porch. Just out of curiosity, I drove up the highway for a mile in each direction to see if there was a dead female raccoon in the road, but I found nothing. So, I continued to feed the poor little critter twice a day for the rest of the summer. Sometimes he would emerge from his little house in the morning. Sometimes he would descend from one of the tall pines in my backyard, where he had spent the night. By this time, I'd sit on the back steps until he'd finished his meal. Then, he'd crawl up into my lap and lick my face.
By late September, he appeared to be smaller than he should have been and I was afraid that he wouldn't survive the winter outdoors. I wasn't able to take him into my house. I don't have the facilities for taking care of a pet raccoon and I was afraid it would run afoul of my cat. I called the Fish & Wildlife Dept. and a woman dressed like a forest ranger showed up the next day. She weighed the little fellow and gave him a physical examination. She agreed that he should have been about a third larger than he was and he wouldn't survive the winter on his own. He was underweight because he had been given an insufficient diet. He should have also been getting bugs, berries, a variety of plants and an occasional mouse.
She took the raccoon away in a pet carrier, reassuring me that he would be placed in an enclosure with other raccoons his own size and he'd be released into the local state forest the following spring. He wailed like a little child as he was being carried away and I couldn't help but cry myself.
In June of the following year, I was taking in the morning air while having coffee out on the back porch when a fully grown raccoon waddled out of the woods and came up to me, clearly looking for a handout. I went back inside and came out with some table scraps, which a tossed on the driveway. I sat on the steps, watching the raccoon devour every scrap, even some slices of rancid cucumber. To my surprise, the raccoon came over to me, put its paws on my knee and licked my face. My raccoon had found its way home.
The raccoon now makes its daily rounds somewhere up on Mt. Gobble, showing up on my back porch for handouts once every seven to ten days. Usually, I find him perched on the porch railing, peering in through the kitchen window.
Later that day. I made a little house for the raccoon, using a big cardboard box and a piece of old plywood. I fed him again that afternoon and evening. The next morning he was peeking out of the doorway at me when I walked out on the porch. Just out of curiosity, I drove up the highway for a mile in each direction to see if there was a dead female raccoon in the road, but I found nothing. So, I continued to feed the poor little critter twice a day for the rest of the summer. Sometimes he would emerge from his little house in the morning. Sometimes he would descend from one of the tall pines in my backyard, where he had spent the night. By this time, I'd sit on the back steps until he'd finished his meal. Then, he'd crawl up into my lap and lick my face.
By late September, he appeared to be smaller than he should have been and I was afraid that he wouldn't survive the winter outdoors. I wasn't able to take him into my house. I don't have the facilities for taking care of a pet raccoon and I was afraid it would run afoul of my cat. I called the Fish & Wildlife Dept. and a woman dressed like a forest ranger showed up the next day. She weighed the little fellow and gave him a physical examination. She agreed that he should have been about a third larger than he was and he wouldn't survive the winter on his own. He was underweight because he had been given an insufficient diet. He should have also been getting bugs, berries, a variety of plants and an occasional mouse.
She took the raccoon away in a pet carrier, reassuring me that he would be placed in an enclosure with other raccoons his own size and he'd be released into the local state forest the following spring. He wailed like a little child as he was being carried away and I couldn't help but cry myself.
In June of the following year, I was taking in the morning air while having coffee out on the back porch when a fully grown raccoon waddled out of the woods and came up to me, clearly looking for a handout. I went back inside and came out with some table scraps, which a tossed on the driveway. I sat on the steps, watching the raccoon devour every scrap, even some slices of rancid cucumber. To my surprise, the raccoon came over to me, put its paws on my knee and licked my face. My raccoon had found its way home.
The raccoon now makes its daily rounds somewhere up on Mt. Gobble, showing up on my back porch for handouts once every seven to ten days. Usually, I find him perched on the porch railing, peering in through the kitchen window.
"The world is my country; all of humanity are my brethren; and to do good deeds is my religion." (Thomas Paine)
