This has not been a good week. Fifty feet away, outside our back door, I can see a raccoon that will die before this day is over.
I can hear its cries, and can only hope that it's not one of the mothers with babies waiting somewhere for her return, but since the population now is primarily mothers with babies-the males having been run off after doing their job a few months back-the majority probably are nursing mothers. If I'm not mistaken, it will be the third one to die this week.
This is what a raccoon on death row looks like.
We have lived in our house in Magnolia for more than 13 years, and during that time many raccoons have passed through our yard-as have squirrels, opossums, dogs, cats, a large variety of birds and one fuzzy thing that I could swear was a guinea pig, but it was gone in the dark so fast I didn't get a good look at it.
In all these years, we've become especially well acquainted with the raccoons. We recognize families by their facial markings and ear shapes. There's the Bear family with little round faces and rounded ears set farther apart on their head than the other raccoons. There's Evanda's family, with a distinct look and mask shape, and with the knowledge she passed on to them that ours is a "safe house."
There was Lobo, an almost white-faced raccoon, but she and her family have moved on-raccoons are basically solitary, and territorial, so an area can only support so many of the species.
I have to admit that we put a little food out for our visitors, especially when there are babies growing and maturing to survive the coming winter; we've never had a problem with them. They come and eat, bring their babies by to meet us, sometimes nap on our patio and generally, with full bellies, go back to their tree or den to sleep. We've even seen them share the patio with a yellow cat without trouble.
That has all changed. We have some relatively new folks in the neighborhood who have taken a dislike to raccoons. Maybe it's their new dog, and they're concerned that he will tangle with the raccoons-a possibility, but dogs and raccoons have been sorting this kind of thing out for centuries. One will establish dominance and the other will give way. It's when we humans try to "manage" the situation that it usually gets screwed up.
It seems to me they were complaining about the raccoons long before they had their dog, so maybe their just not wildlife people. Maybe they'd be happier in a downtown condo where the only "wildlife" they have to deal with are sparrows and starlings.
They've complained about our feeding the raccoons a number of times, and finally said they were going to hire a trapper to take them away. I've tried to point out that there may be a thousand or more raccoons in Magnolia, and being territorial, when one dies-whether of natural causes or a more violent death-another will simply take its place. But that didn't seem to make any difference.
A few days ago I saw a yellow truck parked in their driveway with animal footprints painted on the side of the vehicle, an effort I assume to make it look like a cutesy, fuzzy animal truck rather than a gas chamber. Then I saw the trap on the hill and knew that some local raccoons would be taking the long walk.
For the record, raccoons, squirrels and opossums are classified as nuisance animals. I checked with the State Fish & Wildlife folks. Our neighbors are perfectly within their rights to do this, and we have no recourse.
What I didn't know is that these companies don't relocate the animals; they kill them. In fact, according to the woman I talked to at the state, it's illegal not to kill a trapped animal that is classified as a nuisance.
What is it about human nature, at least in our culture, that when something or someone becomes a "nuisance," our answer is to eliminate them, rub them out, kill them. We've done it with geese, sea lions and numerous other animals throughout our history.
We seem to be a nation defined by statements like "bring 'em on" and "wanted dead or alive." Why can't we live together-not only with other humans but with the animals that share our planet?
Nuisance animals? Perhaps, but is death our only answer? These are not predators that stalk live prey, bringing them down with a swipe of a massive paw. These are animals that scavenge in trashcans, eat a few flower bulbs and, if you feed your dog or cat outside and he or she doesn't eat it all, the raccoons will help themselves.
They are not the vicious animals some would have you believe, although when cornered or when protecting babies, like domestic pets and humans, they can be nasty little critters. Still, like most small animals, they'll avoid a fight if they can.
Is there the occasional nutcase raccoon that has to be removed? Certainly there is, just like the odd dog, cat or human being that has to be removed from society because of a mental imbalance. But the raccoons that are dying in Magnolia this week are not of that ilk. They are simply urban wildlife trying to make it through another day.
If the events of this week weren't bad enough, I just finished reading Marley & Me by John Grogan, a marvelously funny book about a deranged and psychotic yellow labrador and his human family. Like all pet stories, it ends with Marley's death. My wife read it first, and put a little pink, heart-shaped sticky note inside warning me: "This is a 4 Kleenex read-so be ready!"
She was oh-so-right. Anyone who has shared her life with an animal should consider this a must-read book. Note to self: send an email to Grogan cursing him for making a grown man cry.
I was struck by something Grogan wrote near the end of the book: "Animal lovers are a special breed of human, generous of spirit, full of empathy, perhaps a little prone to sentimentality, and with hearts as big as a cloudless sky."
I know that my wife and I are a little 'round the bend when it comes to animals, domestic or urban wildlife; we'd most likely leave the door open for raccoons if we didn't have an old cat to worry about and weren't aware of their reputation for opening everything in site in search of food.
But to ask a company to come trap raccoons, knowing they'll be dead in the back of the truck before they're out of Magnolia, is an act that we'll never be able to comprehend.
I have to go somewhere now. I can't stand to hear the screams of one of our little neighbors while she waits for an end she doesn't deserve. Dead raccoon walking.
Mike Davis lives in Magnolia.[[In-content Ad]]
