Showing posts with label raccoon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label raccoon. Show all posts

Saturday, August 17, 2013

Late Breakfast




























By nature, he's not a creature of the light, but on this particular morning, 

a young raccoon's hunger overcame his caution. 

He made his way, nervously, along the deck railing toward the bird feeder. 






Sans bark, it was a bit tricky to hang on...

































but the black oil sunflower seeds made it well worth the effort.


























"Is that my mother calling?"






























The small creature went to dismount, 

and found that getting into something can be easier than getting out of it.  

It was a long way down.

He managed, finally, to navigate to the deck and down the steps

before making a dash for his den tree, 

late to bed.

We're leaving him with a poem Don wrote for our grandson.

The little raccoon might want to study up.








All Night Diner

The eastern sky, with crescent moon,
is solid black, which suits the coon.

He hunts at night, and finds his snacks
little creatures must watch their backs.

His menu's long; he does not fuss
his diet is omnivorous.

Some crickets now, with some wild plums
then some birdseed, before light comes.

More bites, a burp, and then he's gone
to his den tree at early dawn.


Don Smiley











Saturday, July 20, 2013

Swing Shift
























The sun's almost up over the hill, 

and four young raccoons, their shift nearly over, forage under the bird feeder, 

their busy legs still wet from a romp in the birdbath. 





They look straight ahead, 

their small hands in constant motion as they grope for another morsel, 

a black oil sunflower seed that the birds left behind.




A slight disturbance sends them scrambling up the nearest tree, 

before they reverse their direction and run for the shelter of the woods.
































The sun is up, the night crew gone, and the day crew has started their shift.





Linking with Camera Critters
and Weekly Top Shot

Friday, July 12, 2013

Morning Gold


There's something magical about a summer morning
just after the whip-poor-will has silenced its strident song
and before the glowing sun has appeared over the hill. 




































It's then that we see some of the more reclusive creatures that inhabit our forest,
 like the bobcat that appeared recently.  
Yesterday, at first light, a family of raccoons scrambled down one tree 
and up another, four small masked fluff balls following a larger one, 
their striped tails broadcasting their identity.





It's only early in the morning that we see the big bucks; 
they visit occasionally,
and long before the sun comes up they melt back into the woods.

The Italians have a phrase, "Il mattino ha l'oro in bocca" 
which corresponds loosely to our adage "the early bird gets the worm".  
Literally, it translates, "the morning has gold in its mouth".
I like that thought, and I think it's true.



















There's another thing that's golden about the morning.
The ancient Jewish prophet Jeremiah wrote,

"The faithful love of the Lord never ends!
His mercies never cease.
Great is His faithfulness;
His mercies begin afresh each morning."

As long ago as those words were written,
they are just as true today,
just as they always will be.




Linking with Camera Critters
and Weekly Top Shot



Sunday, August 14, 2011

Wimbley

Living out in the country as we do, It's easy to form mental attachments to certain wild creatures.  The latest one to tug at our heartstrings is a young raccoon.  We're calling him Wimbley.  I noticed him Tuesday as I was throwing corn out for the creatures.  It seemed strange that he was out in the full daylight, and even stranger that he didn't run from me.  Instead, he ambled to an old oak tree nearby and climbed slowly, resting frequently, to a crotch in the tree, about 20 feet up. 


 I saw him the next day, briefly, and then, on Thursday, there was a showdown.  While he was eating, a short distance from the same tree, 7 vultures surrounded him.  We seldom see those ugly creatures close to the house, and I wondered, not for the first time, about Wimbley's well being.  But he certainly had spunk.  While a wild turkey provided backup, he tried to intimidate the vultures with his fiercest snarl.  When that didn't deter them, he simply ignored them, and ate his corn.  One by one, they shuffled off.



Wimbley was staying closer to the base of the tree today, and no surprise, we discovered he has an injured front leg.  Most likely, he was abandoned by his family when they moved to a different location, and he couldn't make the trip.  Now, he has a little water, and a little dog food, and a new name.  And of course, a little piece of our hearts.