MARCH
It was still cold during these times but huddled up with his brothers and sisters, the second kit of the litter was content. He had a small view out of the small opening of the tree, where there seemed to be green clusters hanging in the air, contrasting with the rest of the gray world around them. The world was dimmed, and the light during this time was different, bright, but in a different way. The light in the sky at this time did not offer as much light, only a subtle glow. Past the green clusters, into the vast and limitless sky, were bright white points that gleamed. They only were there when their mother was out, finding food to feed the kit and his siblings. She would bring numerous feasts; berries that were sweet and sometimes a bit bitter, bugs that moved as the kits tried to feed on them, and sometimes mice, that were warm and could feed the entire litter.
The kit had been settled in this small hollow spot in their tree for a few weeks or so now, nervous, like the others, to venture out. Here, they were protected, warm, and fed every day. Sometimes there would be loud noises outside of the tree, a variety of chirps from a variety of flying feathered friends (and foes - those ones had deeper noises and seemed most lively at night), and howling of large four-legged creatures with sharp teeth and a vicious snarl. Mother seemed to be wary of these creatures, so the kit decided to be wary as well. One day, it seemed, they all would be forced out of their cozy enclosure and would have to fend for themselves.
MAY
The kit was awoken suddenly, as were his siblings. Their mother was climbing into their nest, a cluster of mulberries hanging from her mouth; their first meal for the day. They all happily snacked on the tart black berries, as their mother seemed to sit still, waiting for something. The kit watched her, realizing something about today was different. Their mother’s demeanor was noticeably divergent from any other day. The kit finished his berries, licking around his mouth to finish off any leftover berry juice. Suddenly his mother gripped one of his sisters by the scruff, and she let out a small cry as their mother carried her out of their settlement in the tree and quickly down the trunk the ground below. Suddenly all of the kits seemed to be panicking, crying for their sister and mother, their meal forgotten. Not much longer and she appeared again, snatching up the next sibling and skittering out of the tree.
The kit watched, wondering when it was his turn, was it time for them to leave? He had witnessed others like him, small ones, scurrying around on the forest floor in a pack with their family. It must be time for them to explore the world and live their own life. One more of his siblings were taken to the ground before he felt his mother’s mouth clasp over the extra skin at the back of his neck. He felt fresh air breeze through his fur as his mother rushed him down the tree. A different perspective of the world quickly came to view. The ground felt so solid, and different. His paws grasped at the bright green strands of grass beneath him. He gazed over at his siblings, his mother finally brought the last one down with them, all five of them reunited on the ground.
They all got their bearings, sniffing around them, checking out their new surroundings. Then, they were off, being led by their mother into the depths of the woods. It took a while for the kits to get used to walking; something they really had not experienced in its entirety. It was the beginning of their training to being adults and being on their own in this big world.
OCTOBER
The kit was now grown to an official adult, at least he felt so. Their mother let all of them forage on their own now - to some degree. She usually kept close to them all, watching from the distance. He was sitting contently by a small creek, watching the water babble and flow, carrying tasty treats along. He watched the bank, sitting close, trying to distinguish the movement of water-living creatures from the movement of the water itself. He ventured into the water, feeling the cold water lapping against his legs and furry abdomen. His paws skipped over the gravel and dirt at the bottom of the creek, feeling for his next meal. The moment he felt the movement of something below, he darted after it, both paws first, grasping desperately. After several seconds of chasing the crustacean, he managed to pull it from the water onto the mud beside the creek. Hard-shelled claws snapped frantically, but the grown raccoon started right away dipping it in the water to clear debris, ignoring the crustacean’s fight for life. The first crunch of the outer shell of the crayfish was satisfying between the raccoon’s sharp teeth. It was soon that he pried the meat of the crayfish out from underneath the shell and enriched himself with a good meal. The raccoon listened to the gentle stream of the creek as he enjoyed the rest of the crayfish. Off in the distance, he saw one of his brothers doing the same as him, trying to pick out some delicious food from the creek. He watched him with curious eyes, assessing his technique. It was the same, their mother had shown them how to hunt and gather for themselves.
NOVEMBER
It was getting cold now, and the raccoon did not see his family much during the day, only at nights where they slept close together, sometimes within the same tree. It was dark, with the sun starting to peek up above the horizon. The raccoon was sitting in a tree, preparing to settle in for sleep after a long night of snacking on berries, plants, and a sizeable mouse he managed to catch in the tall grasses.
He saw movement a distance away, it looked like one of his sisters. He chittered at her, letting her know he had room for them to den together for the night and keep each other warm. She started towards his tree, chittering back. Suddenly there was more movement, a bigger creature. A coyote. The vicious four-legged creature he remembered fearing greatly as a kit. Panic struck him, and he found himself scurrying out of the tree, screeching to get attention from any other family around. He saw the coyote darting towards his sister, grabbing her neck between its teeth, starting to jerk her around. He ran at the ferocious beast, aiming for its legs. He nipped at him and sunk his teeth into its front leg, feeling something warm seep into his mouth. Blood.
There was a rush of noise and movement. He pulled back from the coyote and saw three other raccoons, his mother, sister, and one raccoon he did not recognize the scent of. They all chased after the coyote, clawing and biting when they could. The coyote finally dropped his sister, and she fell to the ground like a mouse just caught for a meal; limp and silent. The coyote started to be the one panicking as four raccoons continued to throw themselves at it. There was howling, growling, hissing, and whimpering; a violent cacophony of a battle.
Eventually, the coyote managed to bolt off, but not unscathed. The raccoon looked around at the others, looking tired from the battle. He then saw his sister again, not having moved from where she had been released for the coyote’s strong jaw. He walked over, pressing his paws against her, he felt the wetness of blood matted in her fur. He chittered at her, confused as to why she was not moving or making any noise. He continued to push on her, bumping his nose against her head. Nothing.
JANUARY
Some days were unbearably cold, and the raccoon and his family holed up together on those days, like when they were kits. There were only four of them now. They had ventured far from where they had started out, and the area was much different. There were odd structures all around, and inside of those structures, there were these large creatures, upright on two legs. They stayed away from them.
The raccoon had seen some of his kind close to these structures, and he went as far as thinking they stayed inside them somehow. He did not understand how they were not killed by the terrifyingly loud and large creatures that resided in them.
Food was more scarce these days, and the weather was too bitter for them to be out for too long to even look. Whatever food was found, the raccoons gorged themselves on it. The raccoon had noticed that the others that possibly stayed in the two-legged structures seemed to be better off than those inhabiting the trees and trying to live off of berries. Their coats were shiner and their bodies carried more fat that must have kept them much warmer.
FEBRUARY
The raccoon had finally ventured to one of those structures, finding a gap in the top, finding a vast space, where he saw no creatures, just a few dead bugs, and another family of raccoons. Below them, lived the large creatures, who seemed ignorant of the raccoons taking up space above them. The family of raccoons staying there did not seem to mind him being there, and eventually, he brought his two brothers with him. It was warm there - much warmer than outside. And every once in a while, there were bags thrown outside their new homes by the two-legged creatures, and they were interesting foods inside - nothing like he’d ever had before.
He and his brothers kept full and warm. His mother and sister were getting prepared to produce kits in the next month and must have not found this new homestead safe enough for their upcoming offspring.
He occasionally wandered outside to gather food that wasn’t from the bags. He would spot his sister and mother here and there scavenging for food. Soon, more food would be available as the scenery became greener. Soon there would also be gaggles of kits stored in trees by their mothers. Some of them would be his, however, he had no responsibility in their upbringing, that was their mother’s role.
He would continue a solitary life, feeding himself, fending off predators, and occasionally helping others of his own to fight away the dangers around them.
References used to accurately depict the life of a raccoon:
Brown, Simon. Raccoon, www.sibr.com/mammals/M153.html.
“Raccoon.” National Geographic, National Geographic Partners, 21 Sept. 2018, www.nationalgeographic.com/animals/mammals/r/raccoon/.
“Raccoon - Procyon Lotor.” NatureWorks, NHPBS, nhpbs.org/natureworks/raccoon.htm.
It was still cold during these times but huddled up with his brothers and sisters, the second kit of the litter was content. He had a small view out of the small opening of the tree, where there seemed to be green clusters hanging in the air, contrasting with the rest of the gray world around them. The world was dimmed, and the light during this time was different, bright, but in a different way. The light in the sky at this time did not offer as much light, only a subtle glow. Past the green clusters, into the vast and limitless sky, were bright white points that gleamed. They only were there when their mother was out, finding food to feed the kit and his siblings. She would bring numerous feasts; berries that were sweet and sometimes a bit bitter, bugs that moved as the kits tried to feed on them, and sometimes mice, that were warm and could feed the entire litter.
The kit had been settled in this small hollow spot in their tree for a few weeks or so now, nervous, like the others, to venture out. Here, they were protected, warm, and fed every day. Sometimes there would be loud noises outside of the tree, a variety of chirps from a variety of flying feathered friends (and foes - those ones had deeper noises and seemed most lively at night), and howling of large four-legged creatures with sharp teeth and a vicious snarl. Mother seemed to be wary of these creatures, so the kit decided to be wary as well. One day, it seemed, they all would be forced out of their cozy enclosure and would have to fend for themselves.
MAY
The kit was awoken suddenly, as were his siblings. Their mother was climbing into their nest, a cluster of mulberries hanging from her mouth; their first meal for the day. They all happily snacked on the tart black berries, as their mother seemed to sit still, waiting for something. The kit watched her, realizing something about today was different. Their mother’s demeanor was noticeably divergent from any other day. The kit finished his berries, licking around his mouth to finish off any leftover berry juice. Suddenly his mother gripped one of his sisters by the scruff, and she let out a small cry as their mother carried her out of their settlement in the tree and quickly down the trunk the ground below. Suddenly all of the kits seemed to be panicking, crying for their sister and mother, their meal forgotten. Not much longer and she appeared again, snatching up the next sibling and skittering out of the tree.
The kit watched, wondering when it was his turn, was it time for them to leave? He had witnessed others like him, small ones, scurrying around on the forest floor in a pack with their family. It must be time for them to explore the world and live their own life. One more of his siblings were taken to the ground before he felt his mother’s mouth clasp over the extra skin at the back of his neck. He felt fresh air breeze through his fur as his mother rushed him down the tree. A different perspective of the world quickly came to view. The ground felt so solid, and different. His paws grasped at the bright green strands of grass beneath him. He gazed over at his siblings, his mother finally brought the last one down with them, all five of them reunited on the ground.
They all got their bearings, sniffing around them, checking out their new surroundings. Then, they were off, being led by their mother into the depths of the woods. It took a while for the kits to get used to walking; something they really had not experienced in its entirety. It was the beginning of their training to being adults and being on their own in this big world.
OCTOBER
The kit was now grown to an official adult, at least he felt so. Their mother let all of them forage on their own now - to some degree. She usually kept close to them all, watching from the distance. He was sitting contently by a small creek, watching the water babble and flow, carrying tasty treats along. He watched the bank, sitting close, trying to distinguish the movement of water-living creatures from the movement of the water itself. He ventured into the water, feeling the cold water lapping against his legs and furry abdomen. His paws skipped over the gravel and dirt at the bottom of the creek, feeling for his next meal. The moment he felt the movement of something below, he darted after it, both paws first, grasping desperately. After several seconds of chasing the crustacean, he managed to pull it from the water onto the mud beside the creek. Hard-shelled claws snapped frantically, but the grown raccoon started right away dipping it in the water to clear debris, ignoring the crustacean’s fight for life. The first crunch of the outer shell of the crayfish was satisfying between the raccoon’s sharp teeth. It was soon that he pried the meat of the crayfish out from underneath the shell and enriched himself with a good meal. The raccoon listened to the gentle stream of the creek as he enjoyed the rest of the crayfish. Off in the distance, he saw one of his brothers doing the same as him, trying to pick out some delicious food from the creek. He watched him with curious eyes, assessing his technique. It was the same, their mother had shown them how to hunt and gather for themselves.
NOVEMBER
It was getting cold now, and the raccoon did not see his family much during the day, only at nights where they slept close together, sometimes within the same tree. It was dark, with the sun starting to peek up above the horizon. The raccoon was sitting in a tree, preparing to settle in for sleep after a long night of snacking on berries, plants, and a sizeable mouse he managed to catch in the tall grasses.
He saw movement a distance away, it looked like one of his sisters. He chittered at her, letting her know he had room for them to den together for the night and keep each other warm. She started towards his tree, chittering back. Suddenly there was more movement, a bigger creature. A coyote. The vicious four-legged creature he remembered fearing greatly as a kit. Panic struck him, and he found himself scurrying out of the tree, screeching to get attention from any other family around. He saw the coyote darting towards his sister, grabbing her neck between its teeth, starting to jerk her around. He ran at the ferocious beast, aiming for its legs. He nipped at him and sunk his teeth into its front leg, feeling something warm seep into his mouth. Blood.
There was a rush of noise and movement. He pulled back from the coyote and saw three other raccoons, his mother, sister, and one raccoon he did not recognize the scent of. They all chased after the coyote, clawing and biting when they could. The coyote finally dropped his sister, and she fell to the ground like a mouse just caught for a meal; limp and silent. The coyote started to be the one panicking as four raccoons continued to throw themselves at it. There was howling, growling, hissing, and whimpering; a violent cacophony of a battle.
Eventually, the coyote managed to bolt off, but not unscathed. The raccoon looked around at the others, looking tired from the battle. He then saw his sister again, not having moved from where she had been released for the coyote’s strong jaw. He walked over, pressing his paws against her, he felt the wetness of blood matted in her fur. He chittered at her, confused as to why she was not moving or making any noise. He continued to push on her, bumping his nose against her head. Nothing.
JANUARY
Some days were unbearably cold, and the raccoon and his family holed up together on those days, like when they were kits. There were only four of them now. They had ventured far from where they had started out, and the area was much different. There were odd structures all around, and inside of those structures, there were these large creatures, upright on two legs. They stayed away from them.
The raccoon had seen some of his kind close to these structures, and he went as far as thinking they stayed inside them somehow. He did not understand how they were not killed by the terrifyingly loud and large creatures that resided in them.
Food was more scarce these days, and the weather was too bitter for them to be out for too long to even look. Whatever food was found, the raccoons gorged themselves on it. The raccoon had noticed that the others that possibly stayed in the two-legged structures seemed to be better off than those inhabiting the trees and trying to live off of berries. Their coats were shiner and their bodies carried more fat that must have kept them much warmer.
FEBRUARY
The raccoon had finally ventured to one of those structures, finding a gap in the top, finding a vast space, where he saw no creatures, just a few dead bugs, and another family of raccoons. Below them, lived the large creatures, who seemed ignorant of the raccoons taking up space above them. The family of raccoons staying there did not seem to mind him being there, and eventually, he brought his two brothers with him. It was warm there - much warmer than outside. And every once in a while, there were bags thrown outside their new homes by the two-legged creatures, and they were interesting foods inside - nothing like he’d ever had before.
He and his brothers kept full and warm. His mother and sister were getting prepared to produce kits in the next month and must have not found this new homestead safe enough for their upcoming offspring.
He occasionally wandered outside to gather food that wasn’t from the bags. He would spot his sister and mother here and there scavenging for food. Soon, more food would be available as the scenery became greener. Soon there would also be gaggles of kits stored in trees by their mothers. Some of them would be his, however, he had no responsibility in their upbringing, that was their mother’s role.
He would continue a solitary life, feeding himself, fending off predators, and occasionally helping others of his own to fight away the dangers around them.
References used to accurately depict the life of a raccoon:
Brown, Simon. Raccoon, www.sibr.com/mammals/M153.html.
“Raccoon.” National Geographic, National Geographic Partners, 21 Sept. 2018, www.nationalgeographic.com/animals/mammals/r/raccoon/.
“Raccoon - Procyon Lotor.” NatureWorks, NHPBS, nhpbs.org/natureworks/raccoon.htm.
