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The Whitehurst Diaries: Raccoon Saga In which Sharon sends a welcome update on Willis the Cat, plus a host of new backyard wildlife. By Sharon Whitehurst Late in winter, when days began to lengthen and the sun grew warmer, we realized that a pair of raccoons were becoming regular visitors. A tray of kibble is kept on the front porch for the barn cats, Willis and Sally. Often, just after dark, we heard the rattle of the tray as the raccoons enjoyed an evening snack. In May, it became obvious that Mamma Raccoon was nursing kits. We began putting out leftovers and scraps of food for her to eat. Pappa Raccoon didn't hang around for long. He sometimes came in at dusk to eat from the bowls at the foot of the porch stairs, then bumbled off. Willis the Cat, who oversees the dooryard and outbuildings, didn't challenge the coons, but kept a strict lookout, sometimes perched on the bench above the porch feeding dishes, sometimes lounging a few yards from the bowls on the gravel. Once Pappa Coon blundered a bit too close to Willis as he was leaving. Willis smacked him 'upside the head' and sent him on his way. There were summer evenings when animal traffic became a bit congested: an assortment of raccoons, opossums and the two feral tomcats, Herman and Hector, who sometimes creep in warily for a bite of kibble. Through all the arrivals and departures, Willis-the-cat monitors the situation. On 23rd June, just after dusk, we watched through the window as Mamma Raccoon climbed the porch steps and tucked into the cat kibble. We opened the door a crack and were surprised when three raccoon 'kits' popped out from under the steps; in a perfectly choreographed move they lined up, tipped back on their small furry bottoms and clasped their tiny paws in front, uttering twittering bird-like squeaks. It was easy to imagine that Mamma had brought them along for a first evening venture and likely told them, 'You stay under the porch while I eat; humans are unpredictable and they don't need to see you!' Mamma bustled down the steps and quickly herded her young ones toward the wooded ravine. The three babies grew rapidly, and soon could make their way up the steps to eat kibble. While they were small they could easily share the rectangular tray without fussing. As they gained in size--and appetite--any semblance of mannerly eating was lost. The kits shoved and squealed, snarled and chattered their teeth menacingly, pushing each other so vigorously that one would tumble down the steps or off the edge of the porch into the raised herb bed, scrambling back up to have another go at the food. The food tray was sometimes over-turned in the ruckus, the water dish sloshed. September days have given way to earlier darkness, there is a chill in the air once the sun tips over the western slope. The raccoons continue their evening visits, but we aren't as often seeing the three kits and their mamma at one time. We suspect that one of the youngsters has emerged as dominant. He [?] is notably greedy, becoming something of a bully. By standing obstinately in the food tray he can keep his siblings from sharing the food. On a recent evening with every last bit of kibble consumed, this bully boy was inspired to show off. He swung a bit clumsily onto the horizontal porch railing, got a good grip and shimmied up to peer at us from the angle of the bracing. His descent was lacking in grace, and he huddled for a moment getting his bearings before scuttling towards the sanctuary of the woods. We didn't set out to feed raccoons. They appeared along with the feral cats and the itinerant opossums. We've listened to the well-meant warnings about befriending wildlife--the possibility of an 'attacking ' coon. We know that raccoons can become a nuisance. I think we are suitably wary, even as we enjoy the opportunity to observe these creatures at close quarters. My main concern is for the safety of Willis and Sally, the outdoor cats; at 13 years old, neither is in their prime and they will become more vulnerable to intruders. Thus far the raccoons squabble amongst themselves, but ignore the resident cats. The possums scuttle off at the least sound or movement of humans. The two feral tomcats dash in to grab a mouthful of whatever is on offer, then bolt away. We sometimes don't see them for several weeks. Two years ago it became necessary to live trap and re-home a large male raccoon who repeatedly overturned and uprooted doorstep planters. If the raccoon population becomes unmanageable we may bundle some of them off to a new life in the wilderness, well away from houses or farms. This story was posted on 2022-10-03 19:54:43
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More articles from topic Sharon Whitehurst - Whitehurst Diaries:
The Whitehurst Diaries: The Man in the Garden The Whitehurst Diaries: Willis-The-Cat, Then and Now The Whitehurst Diaries: Whir, Whiz, Zoom! Sharon Whitehurst: A Morning Without Rain Letter: expanding cyber acquaintance with Blue the Cat Blue will likely adjust more quickly than we humans will The Whitehurst Diaries: A Cellar Hole in Progress The Whitehurst Diaries: Gardening with Willis Grampa Mac said cats of this soft grey coloration were Maltese The Whitehurst Diaries: Our Doughboy, Uncle Lawrence View even more articles in topic Sharon Whitehurst - Whitehurst Diaries |
 
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