Hecate having a late lunch can mean only one thing

The joys of parenthood. Even when it’s expecting parenthood. Expecting^10 parenthood.

Regular readers know we’ve been working with raccoons almost ten years at this point. This first mention in this blog is Raccoon Mother Hecate back in 2017 in Heckie, Sheldon, Veronica, Porgy and Bess (the second post I published, in fact. That’s their importance in our lives).

Some eight months later Hecate introduced us to her second generation kits documented in We Got Kitted!

Our first encounter with Raccoon was Rockalina.

 
The above image is dated 6 June 2010. Rockalina aka Rocky came out from our pines foraging midday. Strange behavior. I worked on a porch back then and, seeing her, talked to her. She stop and look at me for a moment then continued foraging. A week or so of talking and I noticed she’d come and look for me. I got off the porch and approached her, always talking. She came up and sniffed me. I brought out some old cookies we weren’t going to eat. She cautiously took one. I put peanut butter on crackers. Big hit. I made peanut butter sandwiches. Bigger hit. We had tiny dog bones. She loved them.

She would come by at 3-4pmET every day and stand up until I noticed her, talked, and she’d come forward to get her treats.

We thought it odd.

Then one night our back light came on. There was Rocky with five kits, all standing up waiting for me to come out.

She was such a tender soul. I miss her greatly.

She also brought her sisters and aunts and daughters, who brought their kits. One year we had 19 raccoons in the backyard, most of them taking food from my hands.

It was glorious.

And it all started with one raccoon coming by in the afternoon.

Just like Hecate is doing now.

Must mean we’ll be seeing kits soon.

We can’t wait.

Orianthe and Macon dine while Orville lurks in the background

How are your peanuts, my darling?

Following up on last week’s table feature, this week we delve into interbeastial relationships ala Orianthe and Macon, Opossum and Raccoon, enjoying each other’s company, exchanging recipes, planning an evening of romance once they’ve had their last cappuccino and gelato.

But wait, who’s that hovering in the background? Is it…can it be… Yes, it’s Orville, donning the guise of waiter when really he’s here keeping an eye on Orianthe, his daughter, lost to the…paws…of…

Oh, heavens! A raccoon!

I mean, of all things…a raccoon.

My God!

Oh, the shame. Oh, the Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner of it.

Fortunately, prejudices and ignorance don’t abound with the Old Ones. Peace is the rule – truly, even between predator and prey. Disagree? You’ve never witnessed the selection process in full – and interbeastial relationships abound.

My prayer for humankind, that. That interbeastial relationships might abound and we, as one species among many, might prosper.

 

Tom and Jeri

Tom’s showing his all and everything, and Jeri could care less. There are lessons here, folks…

Let this be a lesson to males who think they’re all that and more.

Behold Tom.

Tom is working it. I mean, just look at that robust malehood. It’s protruding – literally – from every place it can in Turkeydom.

A human male would be locked up for public…something or other. Nudity? Vulgarity? Obscenity?

I mean, guys…don’t you wish you had a… okay, I won’t go there.

But working it, Tom is.

Now gaze upon the…uh…lovely Jeri, pecking away at some seeds, paying no mind whatsoever to Tom who’s over here, doing his thing.

Guys, remember this the next time you’re out scouting for booty.

They don’t care what you look like. All that time in the gym, at the stylist, at the tailor, …

And ladies…don’t you think this is encouraging your bad rep? Not appreciating all that effort.

Wait a second…that’s almost role reversal.

Ha. Serves us right. And you, too.

 

The Chatter After Lights Out

New Life, Old Magic

It’s Spring again. Another 365.something day tour around our own little star. Isn’t it grand? Do you take for granted your travels on Spaceship Earth? Our home isn’t stuck on some foundation with a permanent address that can be viewed on Google Maps.

No, far from it. We’re traveling. We are travelers without knowing from whence we came or where we go.

The Old Ones know this. They take nothing for granted.

Except cookies and peanuts.

From yours truly.

Opie and Opette come to dine nightly, as does Vincenzi the Fox. Gladys and her crowd come by during the day.

Most recently we’ve been guested by Verne, one of Hecate’s kits. There are two others who also come by and say hello, although usually after we’ve shut off the lights and are in bed. We hear them talking; “Pass the peanuts?” and “Is that fresh water?” and “Any more cookies?”

And we’ll see them and other Old Ones through the year and through the years. All of them come to us. We’re a house of magic. So they tell us.

We believe. Old Ones don’t lie.

Say hello to Verne, all.

One Hen, Two Chucks

It’s tough being an ignored Young Turk(ey)

Okay, so they’re names are really Bert and Larry.

Remember Gladys? Remember my she was an advance scout? Or maybe she just got tired of all the gobbling?

Not quite accurate.

She got tired of all the testosterone.

There was Gladys, merrily prancing through our yard, munching and mensching with the other Old Ones, then voobah, Bert and Larry show up.

She ignores them.

You should see the look on their faces when she does. There they are, strutting their stuff for all to see, and she’s all “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

I’m so glad I’ve found the love of my life. No more courting. No more prancing. No more fluffing, strutting, whatever.

As a joke, I strutted for a neighbor, Debbie. We sometimes walk our dogs together in the morning. She mentioned seeing two Toms in our backyard and I did a good 100ft riff on Turkey machismo. Debbie laughed so hard she almost dropped the leash.

So much for me strutting, huh?

Say hello to Bert and Larry, folks.