Those famished eyes!

A very hungry racoon, a nursing mother, came to my door yesterday night, begging. But first, she climbed my potting shelf and turned over a basket to get at a bag of shells, saved for drainage material.

Disappointing! All the shells are empty!

(Photo is in black and white, because, taken through double-paned glass, it was polluted with colours reflected from inside. A green raccoon? With pink eyebrows? Not good.)

I opened the door and chased her away. She went reluctantly, looking back, hoping I'd relent. Later, once she was gone, I went out and tidied up the mess. While I was at it, I looked up, and there she was, looking wistful, barely a foot away. I dashed back inside; I don't want to tangle with a desperate coon. And she tried to follow me through the door. I slammed it in her face.

And then she sat there, staring at the latch, looking soooo sad. She broke my heart; it's awful to have babies and not enough food.

"Please? Pretty please?"

No, I didn't feed her. Eventually, she wandered off, disconsolate. I hope she found some good eats somewhere, just not on my doorstep.