At the tail end of my run this morning, I spot a baby raccoon scampering across the track. Now most people, since it was daybreak, would assume he was rabid and dangerous, but I knew, he was just late.
Kids will be kids, even if they do resemble the Lone Ranger.
I slowed up to watch where he was headed, and it was a tree a little to my left, so I stopped giving nature her due. He looked up to its peak as if he was about to climb Mount Everest stalling for time. If he indeed missed curfew, did that mean he’d be punished, sent to bed without a can to open? I knew I was no help to him, but thought, hey, I’d encourage him anyway.
As he started his climb, I said, “There ya go, now you’re talkin,” just to watch him slide back down like the tree was greased with oil.
Oh dear, now what?
I know he knew how because I’ve seen mother raccoons teach their kids and it’s nature at her best. She demonstrates, then urges, perched behind to catch them when they fall, and they do, same as any baby trying to crawl. This little guy clearly needed more practice, since he was still at the bottom.
Suddenly, a head pops out from the top of the tree. Mom, is that you? It was then he gave it his all and made it like a little champ.
“Yay,” I screamed, clapping for him excited being a spectator. Imagine, rather than reading National Geographic, you were actually in it.
So many runners whizzed by while standing there oblivious to nature and all her wealth. It was one of those rare times I could say, I like being this curious and willing to bear witness to all that’s around me.