Raccoons have captured the fancy of cartoonists, authors, movie makers, comic strip artists, and even video game creators for decades. Rocky Raccoon, for instance, began his cartoon career in 1937, and has outlasted several generations of children and voice actors. Before Rocky hit the big screen, native Americans had created a plethora of tales with the raccoon as the central figure, often as a trickster.
Raccoons in the flesh are not universally beloved though. They have a deserved reputation for destroying things (like my sister’s screens) rummaging in garbage and compost, and eating food put out for the birds. They can carry rabies, although it’s rare, and they also carry feline and canine distemper, heartworm and other diseases that can be fatal to pets.
All that being said, let’s look at these nocturnal American natives.
Raccoons (Procyon lotor) are estimated to be the second-smartest critter in a backyard between crows (#1) and squirrels (#3). They’re definitely smarter than a dog or cat. Remember that old Aesop fable about the crow and the pitcher? The thirsty crow dropped pebbles into the pitcher until the water level rose to a point where the crow could reach it. Researchers tried to get raccoons to do the same thing. The first two raccoons in the study got the pebble thing, dropping stones into a cylinder to raise the water level and the marshmallow that was floating on it. The third raccoon said nuts to this and just tipped the cylinder over. And that, of course, is what raccoons will do to the garbage can given half a chance. They’re actually quite intelligent, able to figure out how to open the lid to that garbage can, for instance. Some people speculate that the more we give them to figure out, like more complex catches on the garbage can lid, the better they will get at it. It helps that they have those nimble and extremely sensitive fingers to hold, grip, tear and destroy things.
This little bandit has a pointy nose and rounded ears, a black mask edged in white, a rich grayish-brown coat and a long thick tail ringed in alternating black and brown. It lives in the woods on Owl Acres, most likely in a hollow tree. It stands about 12 inches tall, weighs between 15 and 24 pounds and has a nose to tail length of 24 to 38 inches. In other words, it’s the size of a huge cat or smallish dog.
Raccoons don’t have opposable thumbs. They do have five flexible, highly capable “fingers” on each paw. They can open jars, doors and latches and they’re smart enough to remember how from one time to the next. Raccoons have a highly evolved sense of touch which increases under water. And they’ll eat anything. Since they live in my woods, they have to be content with what they can find there to eat. They’d be delighted to check out the garbage, or to raid a compost pile, so we have to be careful not to make that an option. We also had to put a special baffle on the bird feeder so they can’t climb up and eat the bird food. They’re not very accomplished hunters but can catch and eat small rodents. They prefer fish though, and scat evidence of raccoon fondness for crawdads indicates that they’ve been fishing at the nearby creek. Raccoons are also particularly fond of sweet things. They can demolish a row of just-ripe sweet corn overnight, for instance.
A raccoon is said to wash its food before eating it. This may have more to do with inspection with those sensitive fingers than it does with hygiene. Raccoons do, however, have a sense of hygiene. A group living together, such as females and their pups in a communal nursery, will establish a latrine area away from the living space.
Raccoons don’t hibernate per se, but they do hole up and sleep off the worst of the winter, relying on the fat they accumulated in the fall. In February or March, they’ll come out and mate.
It’s 3:00 in the morning. The night is silent, and I am mostly asleep. And then a muffled scream jerks me awake. The scream devolves into angry high-pitched snarls with some cooing in the mix. It’s two raccoons either fighting, or mating. It lasts less than a minute before they settle the argument and go back to their quieter nocturnal business and I go back to mine—sleeping.
Photo by: Jerry Kirkhart