93. Raccoons

            There’s a nocturnal animal here in America that always fascinates me. It’s the raccoon. Their tails have rings around them and their faces have a little mask around their eyes as if they are little bandits coming to steal things. In fact, they are. If you have property anywhere near them and like to grow a garden be aware that they will come in the night and raid it.

            Raccoons have captured the imagination of many an American boy. When you live in rural areas hunting is a big thing and the hides of raccoons have some value. I can’t tell you how many of my students who aren’t normally readers have fallen in love with the books Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls and Rascal by Sterling North. And, of course, those were also both favorites of me as a young boy.

            My actual encounters with raccoons are infrequent, but I typically see them once or twice a year. The always seem to live near rivers as do I, so it’s not unusual for me to encounter them at night crawling into a culvert to hide from me. I’ve seen them while running in the cool of a summer evening or driving home from somewhere just after dusk. They are very elusive and encounters with them are not nearly as frequent as the two books I mentioned earlier would leave you to believe. I’m sure that’s why they have always captured my imagination. As a boy I used to think I might just befriend one and have it hang out with me like Rascal in North’s novel. But of course that never happened.

            Just like so many things in our lives, our imaginations are captivated by them. Raccoons happen to be very real but a part of their mystique isn’t real at all. They are something that always of a warm evening lurks just on the edge of my yard, my imagination, waiting to steal my corn or, just maybe, come over for a pet before sidling out of my dreams. Raccoons are a distinct part of Americana and I’m thankful for that.