Higgins' Journal(Part Five of Twelve)

The life and times of a young raccoon

being the journal of Alex Snow

copyright Alex Snow (1998)

Higgins inspected the set-up, snifffing around with alacrity. He seemed to enjoy climbing on top of the cage best. It being an exceptionally cold night for the end of May, with temperatures in the low 30s (Fahrenheit), I did not put him in it tonight. He snuggled down under an eiderdown quilt with me. I hope he does not pee on this one. The old one is at the drycleaner'sWhile he was in the soffit early this morning he peed, and it dripped onto the counter again. I'm so glad to have the cage, now I'll have less cleaning up in the house. He has upset ashtrays a lot lately, scattering cigarette butts to the four winds and paddling ash all over the furniture. Our "monkey on a branch" game has become fiercer. Today I finally resorted to wearing gloves, to avoid having my skin torn to shreds by his teeth and claws. With the gloves it is really roughhousing. He grabs my hand with his teeth and shakes it from side to side like a demented cat with a mouse, while simultaneously holding on to my arm for dear life with all four feet, his front feet tightly clasped together. I bounce my arm around, lifting him off the bed by five or six inches then down again, while twisting my hand about as if trying to get out of his grasp. If I slack off bouncing and twisting, he shakes and pulls all the more, and looks up at me pleadingly so I'll continue. We thrash around until my arm is exhausted, and he still wants more. He loves this game. Perhaps it is good training to be a predator, the old "hang on to the prey" ploy. He has become more understanding about biting my toes. I did some exaggerated "ouching" and "eeking" last time he playbit my feet during the night. I think maybe he got the message. He seems to be well pleased with his day, as he is purring happily. His vocalizations consist of purring when contented, trilling when exploring, and chittering when upset. He yips or gulps if wakened by surprise from sleep, and once or twice has screeched when frightened. He snuffles a lot, which hardly counts as a vocalization. It is a sort of forced breathing-out through those crescent-shaped nostrils. Sometimes he snuffles while pawing at my hair, sometimes while padding the bedclothes, or while playing with toys. He has growled at strangers and pineapples.He is afraid of the sounds of trains in the distance, nearby cars, and helicopters flying overhead. He's not too sure about the guy next door hammering on his window frames. Higgins is now able to see considerably further than before, a good 20 yards from the porch to the woods across the street. Today two cardinals attracted his attention: one red male and one buffy red female together pecking about in the woods. His running has developed into bounding. When he rounds the side of the house and sees his favorite green ash tree, he breaks into a bound as though he is trying to cantor like a horse, but he can't quite make it to a gallop. He explored the front and side yards today, climbing high enough on the green ash to drag me up into it as I held the end of the leash. He still comes down face first..ttHe had lots of fun exploring the woodpile on the front porch, but got his leash wound around the logs and nearly hauled a couple of logs off the porch that way. I tried to play "fetch" with him like a dog, throwing little sticks around for him to run after, but he was much too smart for that. He went for the hand instead of the stick. Hands are much more fun, they are warm and move about. Sticks just lie there and do nothing.

Thursday 31 May Higgins took two 6 oz. feedings, all Esbilac. I can't figure out where he puts so much liquid. He ate three marshmallows, the little miniature ones. Oh! how he loves sweet stuff. He is still not interested in nutritious solid food. His external ears seem larger each day. The backs of his ears are white at the tips and black at the bases. In the front they are white around the rims, dark brown inside. He still does not like the sound of paper scrunching. His tail has developed a faint seventh black ring at the base. I have noticed this effect over the years on several older raccoons at my back porch. He inspected the new cage again today, chittering all the while. I put in some more "furniture" including his little cardboard house with towels, and a small litterbox containing ground clay and paper towels. The way he's been drinking lately he'll need this latter. I let go of his leash in the yard. I stayed near him all the time, but he had freedom of movement, or so I thought. After exploring the bushes along the side if the house he managed to wind the leash, which was still attached to his collar, around the bricks banking a window well. I plunged in to extract him, right into the middle of a prickly holly bush. That'll larn me.6XAIt is amazing to see the contrast between the kitchen-countertop warrior, fearless and furious, and the shy, timid, and bewildered neophyte who treads so gingerly on his tenderpads out of doors. He is cautious when outside, and only runs across expanses of patio or grass when he can see clearly that they are empty expanses. Whenever a dog barks, a human talks, or a car goes by, he stops and looks cautiously in the direction of the sound. Sometimes he seeks shelter with me. He has shown no real signs of assertiveness outside except in his desire to climb the ash tree, which may represent safety. He picks up bits of clay and stones in the yard and rolls them around with his hands. He puts them in his mouth just like bits of food. He played for ten minutes in this manner with some cut-up apple, but did not eat any. I have discovered that one virtue of roughhousing while wearing gloves, is that if I have to stop playing to do something, he'll go right on playing with the glove. He seems quite happy to pull and twist the glove, jumping on it and biting its fingers, and shaking it from side to side.

Friday 1 June. Higgins ate two 6 oz. feedings today (1 oz. baby cereal & fruit with 5 ozs. Esbilac) at 8.00 a.m. and 8.00 p.m.. I discovered a damp spot in another corner of the carpet today. I do not know whether to move the litterbox to this new spot, or pretend I didn't notice! I collected the original eiderdown quilt from the drycleaners -- remarkably clean and fresh-smelling! I hope the carpet cleaners will be as successful.He has developed a new slant on the "monkey on a branch" game. Instead of lying on his back and pawing upwards, most of the time he now jumps on top of my arm (his head towards my hand) and wrestles with my gloved hand from a superior position. Now he looks more like a predator attacking his prey. He holds my arm still with his back legs and body, while pulling, tugging, and twisting my fingers with his forefeet and jaws..He spent 45 minutes alone in his cage. When I returned to see him he was exceptionally glad to see me. He yipped and jumped up, hugged me and licked my nose. I guess he doesn't yet think of the cage as home.His patterns of movement around the house are interesting. He sticks fairly close to me, playing in whatever room I am in. I have been avoiding the living room, as I do not want stains of milk, urine, diarrhea and so forth all over the furniture in there. I think Higgins has only been in that room once of his own volition. It is a closer room to the bedroom, where he has spent so much of his time, than the den in the basement; but he will cheerfully negociate all of the stairs to the basement in order to play near me if I am down there..lhHe has set a limit on his world. He does not choose to enter the front part of the house, even though all the doors are open. This is surprising, as the front bedroom window is usually open even when it rains, as it is sheltered by the front porch, so all sorts of interesting outdoor smells and noises come in from that direction. He'll run through the dining room, in the central part of the house, on his way to the kitchen, but will not stop to explore or play there. The only time he has stopped in the dining room has been when I was eating there and he wanted to play in my food. He has also shown no interest in the laundryroom or toolroom, even though I go there often.He stays mostly in the kitchen and bedroom at the back of the house, and occasionally visits the bathroom in the center of the house, especially if someone is running water there. He is fascinated with the toilet's flushing, and occasionally climbs into the bathtub to dig in the plughole. He likes taking baths in the washbasin. He also chews on toothbrushes. As I write he is chewing wildly on the rubber eraser from my pencil. He seems to like it better than rawhide.

Saturday 2 June. I could not understand why Higgins refused his morning feeding today, until I noticed that he'd had diarrhea. I threw out the feeding, plus the remaining Esbilac in the jar, and noticed that the bottom of the jar had a lump of milky junk stuck to it. I guess somehow it had gone sour. I feel rotten that I did this to him. I have taken such care to sterilize everything -- his bottle after every feeding, the jar I keep his 24 -hour supply of Esbilac in, the blender I mix it up in etc., etc., but somehow something went wrong this time. Maybe it has to do with the weather; it has been hot, 85F today. I prepared a fresh batch of Esbilac plus a teaspoonful of baby cereal, and he drank it down a treat. He took 6 ozs. at noon, 6 ozs. at 10 p.m.. He spent all afternoon in the cage on the front porch, and had diarrhea in the litterpan there, poor soul.hD2He chitters when I put him in the cage. I was surprised when I came home at 5 p.m. to find him hiding, fast asleep, in the blanket I had put in the cage. The cage is in the shade, but it's hot everywhere. I had been sweating buckets at the arts festival I went to this afternoon. Everyone roasted in the sun. I felt particularly sorry for the guy with a blacksmith's stall and a coke furnace. He was dressed in eighteenth century garb, including felt hat, and was roasting his socks off. I think the lemonade stands did more business than the craftsmen. nRecently Higgins has become interested in bodily orifices. One day this week I awoke to his usual digging in my ear canal. I yawned slowly. Quick as a flash, Higgins took advantage of this rare opportunity to investigate my mouth. Before my jaws shut, I felt him shove his snout and hands into my mouth. He began chomping as though he planned to bite my tongue. His ever-active paws began feeling out my teeth and the cavity beneath my tongue. One of his claws stuck in the tissue on the floor of my mouth. Now I have a lump growing there. I thought this dental exploration was a bit much, but more was to come.`I After a feeding the other night, he began his usual nonchalant playbiting of my toes, though less ferociously than before, as he's learning not to hurt me. Suddenly he dashed along the inside of my outstretched legs and shoved his snout into my crotch, wildly sniffing and snuffling. I pointed out to him that those portions of a human's anatomy were called private parts for good reason. But his explorations were not yet complete. In the wee hours of the morning last night, I was awakened by the strange sensation of tiny hands clawing at my buttocks and a wet snout thrusting into my anus. "Higgins!" I admonished him, "This is not proper!" I managed to distract him with the old gloved hand and "monkey on a branch" game. I swear this tiny creature knows my body better than any human has ever done, except perhaps my mother. I am concerned about what Higgins is learning -- not your standard fare for a wild raccoon. He knows how to pull open drawers by their handles, how to climb up drawer-handles onto countertops, how to open the toaster oven, pull the stopper off the garbage disposal, and climb the window screens. He shows some intelligence in the manipulation of objects. The two-by-fours placed to bar his entrance to the basement ceiling were arranged on the assumption that he would try to push his way into the hole, thereby pushing the pieces of wood into blocking the hole effectively. He pulled them out of the way. He also learned how to flush the toilet by depressing the cistern handle.GMtHe finds his reflection in a mirror uninteresting, he seems to know it is himself. A couple of sniffs inform him there's no stranger staring at him. He needs to learn how to find food and natural shelter. How will I teach him this? In spring raccoons raid birds' nests. If I gave him a hen's egg , of which I have plenty, it would do him no good. Adult raccoons break open eggs with their jaws and let the contents fall, then lap them off the ground. A hen's egg is too big to fit in his small mouth. I need a robin's, cardinal's, or pigeon's egg. A raccoon mother would know where to find such things, but I do not. 4This evening I ate a meal on the back patio, with Higgins on the back bedroom window-ledge watching me through the screen. He was most interested in the two wild raccoons that sauntered across the patio to the dogfood bowl on the back porch. What really caught his fancy though, was the neighbourhood black cat, who padded by to steal the skin of a salmon which I had laid out for all comers on the porch. When I miaowed at the cat, Higgins was most surprised. The cat grabbed the salmonskin leftovers and slinked away into the darkness with its trophy. Its owners are strict vegetarians, so no doubt this tidbit was a rare treat. n .I did not neglect Higgins. I found a buzzing June bug and captured it in a jar. Higgie had a fine time jumping, pouncing, and feeling it on the bed. Didn't eat it though. After a feeding and a bit of playing, he snoozed in his soffit. A fitting occupation for a summer evening. Those people are wrong who think that wild creatures are cute little furry animals who would make fun pets. Looking after a wild animal is three times as much work as looking after a domesticated creature such as a human, dog, or cat. The animals we have chosen to domesticate are those whose habits best befit human convenience. They are not, for example, fully nocturnal. Slowly Higgins is turning me, as his surrogate mother, into a nocturnal animal. Last night I spent an hour or so of my beauty-sleep time playing little games with him, then singing lullabyes to soothe him to sleep. One lullabye doesn't do the trick anymore. It calms him down, but doesn't produce sleep. Last night I sang "Over the Sea to Skye," the "Hawaiian Lullabye," "Golden Slumbers Kiss Your Eyes," Brahms lullabye, the "Hawaiian Wedding Song," "Down Yonder Green Valley," and "Greensleeves" several times each before he fell asleep. Then he awoke soon afterwards, during the dark, timeless hours of slumber -- bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, all ready for action. I was so exhausted when the alarm clock buzzed, that after trying to feed him, I put him in his cage and went back to sleep until 11 a.m.. Ah well, it is Saturday.

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