Too late, too slow, too dark

I had left the back door wide open to catch a bit of fresh air. Shutting it, I startled a young raccoon under the fence; he ran out, stopped to look at me for a second, then left, stage right. Luckily, the camera was on my desk, barely a step away. Not so happily, it took its time powering on. I took a photo, without even waiting to focus, but missed:

Too late!

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.