The other night while I was making dinner, FP glanced outside.
“Look, there’s a raccoon!” he said. “And there’s another one!”
I looked up to see a small racoon scurrying across the yard and taking refuge under our car. “It’s a baby racoon,” I said.
“Yeah, and look at this,” said FP.
Mama raccoon was at our back door, sniffing at the crack under the door. Thankfully, she was a single parent. She turned and crossed the yard again. A smaller raccoon darted from under the car toward her in the grass. Then came another, and another, and another until there were five small raccoons and an adult pawing through the thick grass.
I grabbed my camera and snapped a few pictures. Of course I forgot to turn off the flash at first, so in the first picture they looked possessed. And the little ones ran too fast for me to get at picture of all of them together.
(Note the lawnmower, intended to get rid of that thick grass. Yeah, it’s still sitting there. It’s been in the 100s all week!)
Baby raccoons are cute.
But the next morning when we left for work, our garbage can was tipped over, the bags were ripped open and garbage was strewn all over the driveway.
Never mind. Raccoons aren’t cute.