“Shoo, you bold bloody bugger!” I think those were the words I used. I don’t remember saying precisely that, but as my younger daughter observed that there was no blood on the raccoon, I’ve deduced that the b-words just rolled off my tongue.
We have chili powder around the edge of our back balcony because the raccoons enjoy using it as a latrine and it’s been pretty effective as long as we keep it fresh. But this morning, while I was making breakfast, the sliding doors to the kitchen open for fresh air before it got hot, what did I see? But a bold, fat raccoon right on my balcony! In broad daylight! (Question from one of my children: what’s broad daylight?)
So I stepped onto the balcony and shooed the guy, but he didn’t budge. Hence my epithets. (Other words censored because children were watching.) Then I noticed the raccoon’s fur. Bunched up. Shaggy. Ragged. Looking like it was coming out. And I wondered if he was sick. I closed the sliding doors, looking through them at him. He was trying to smooth down his fur. He moved slowly. And I felt for him as he settled himself into the far corner of the balcony, crouched behind the kid sized picnic table.
I didn’t intend to disturb him. I just thought I’d take a picture. But the camera did what my words didn’t. He sat up, vigilant, even though there was no flash. He didn’t like an instrument pointed at him. Slowly, awkwardly, he squeezed between the railings and disappeared.
Poor guy.
And there in that small interaction is the gestalt of being human: annoyance, anger, outrage, territorial possessiveness, watchfulness, thoughtfulness, compassion, sorrow.
I use very hot cayenne powder to discourage squirrels from digging up the annuals in the garden.
But I do feel sorry for the raccoons – they were my daughter’s totem animal when she was a child – and I will occasionally leave salmon head, tail and skin out for them in the back of the yard when I bake a whole fish.
That’s an interesting totem. And you are kind to feed them. Where I live, in the centre of the city, raccoons are fat, bold, pesty and funny (except when they set up lodging in your roof!).
I can imagine that he’s a pest, but he’s also adorable.
I have a soft spot for all animals, although I know racoons can be dangerous, especially if they get inside your attic. I hope this little guy found a safe haven somewhere well away from your deck!
I do, too, Becca.
I thought so too!
I prefer raccoons to stay out of my veggie garden, but I do like looking at them, and they have such character.
And off my deck, too–especially if they’re pooping.
We don’t have raccoons here so they have a comic book look about them to me – sightly unreal. It’s a funny line that gets crossed, though, between nuisance predator and poor suffering creature. But still, pooping uninvited is not acceptable. My father has a long running battle with a squirrel that eats all the nuts they put out for the birds. His last technique was to grease the pole on which the nuts stand – it was reasonably effective, I think!
That’s pretty funny about the pole. I forgot that raccoons are particular to this continent. I have to mention that to my kids.