I ran out to the lawn; I found the raccoon out in the open behind a neighbour's place, but he scuttled into a hedge, then back onto the lawn. He hesitated, watching me warily, then detoured around me and dashed into the cedars. I was too slow, again.
I like this photo; unfocused, cut off, blurred, and burnt out as it is, it captures the raccoon's hurry and panic.
|At least I got three legs this time.|
Through the branches, I saw him climbing a tree. He stopped half-way, peering down at me from the shelter of the trunk.
|This time, I got his face. Part of it. See the white nose, the black "bandit" mask? And the ear?|
This was a fairly small raccoon, scruffy and skinny. I got the idea that he is out alone in the world for the first time, and not making too good a go of it. He seemed very uncertain as to how to deal with me; older, fatter raccoons usually look at me, then go about their business, unfazed.
I hope he finds his way back to the vacant lot across the street, where there is abundant cover and food under the blackberry vines and alders.