Roxy

I am not a writer so bear with me here.  I need to share a story with you. A true story.  It happened this week. And spoiler alert: it does not end well for the raccoon.  Steve and I sat on the North Porch for happy hour and activity in the live oak that caught my eye.  A very large raccoon sat on a limb and groomed herself like a cat does. I was taught that raccoons wash their food but this was the first time I’ve seen one wash herself.  Raccoons, and other wildlife, predominate on this island paradise where we live. Red raccoons are often seen here. Did you know they came in colors? We’ve had several generations of red and gray raccoons to watch over the years.  Sometimes we see them swimming across creeks. Last spring I watched a mom carry her kits from one tree to another to keep them safe. She pulled them out of the marsh in her mouth and climbed a large live oak, deposited her kit and then climbed back down, over the marsh to retrieve the next.  And the next. This year I have a couple of hollow trees and because of the habitat that remains on my ⅓ acre plot (I don’t know how because we’ve lost so many trees to hurricanes) the birds and raccoons love it here. I have every kind of woodpecker you can think of, except, the pileated one, but I’m hopeful that they will find us in the next couple of years.  Anyway, I digress. Our little lot is also a deer path but that’s a whole ‘nother story.  

Now since the raccoons lived here first, we’ve established a pattern.  They hide when we are out with the dog (leashed) and the dog’s owner (Steve)  tries to manage the dog when the raccoons are spotted by the dog. It’s a mutually agreed upon territorial thing.

Now there’s a saying at Edisto.  “Either you get it, or you don’t.”  This means different things to different people, but one of the things I “get” is that there is a relationship between humans and wildlife that can be a peaceful coexistence, mostly.  It does NOT mean, I’m here so you have to go. It’s an impossible balance between birds, raccoons, deer, alligators, snakes, lizards, and homes, traffic, golfcarts and tourists. This place totally keeps you on your toes because you never know…..

But on Thursday, the sheriff’s deputy had to go get his 22  and shoot my raccoon. Instead of moving about her normal routine, back and forth across the road, across the marsh, she deviated.  She curled up with her nose in the ground. She tried to stand but flopped over. Is this rabies? Who do we call? Animal control? Terminix?  There is no animal control out here. The pest control company wanted no part of this. I have total respect for the deputy who came and did what needed to be done.  Can’t let an animal suffer. Ever.

So when we arrived here in early March, we noted a number of raccoon skeletons in the roads, next to the roads, over in the brush, you get it.  I thought that someone might have put out poison, because this is South Carolina and people can be unpredictable. And yes, I’d heard that a former resident was known to do that.  But no. I was too quick to judge. I called my friend who knows everything there is to know about anything wild. She said right away, “It sounds like distemper.” The sheriff assessed it as distemper as well.  You know the shot your dog has to have? It’s a vaccination for a virus that runs through a population and kills off the old and the weak. And there is nothing that can be done to prevent it or cure it in wild animals.  Our domesticated pets, because the law requires it, are vaccinated for it. But nature takes her course where the wild things are.   

I’m going to leave this here.  Think what you will. But never name your raccoon.