This one is for my friend John Shepherd. He said I wasn't updating my blog enough. I just assumed that no one actually read it.
I could feel the cool air of northern Michigan set in as the darkness of night finally arrived. Both Boss and I were beat. We had driven several hundred miles from Chicago and had finally found a place to stay in a US National Forest outside of Sootville, MI.
I was elated that night because I finally found a campsite that had cell service and I was able to peruse my favorite TV shows while drinking Jameson whiskey out of a paper-sack wrapped bottle. Boss was lying in his bed underneath the hammock and I was sitting in the driver's seat of my car with my feet propped up on the opened door. Halfway through my third episode of "Rick and Morty" I heard a funny sound coming from across the campsite. It sounded like chewing; well, munching to be exact. I figured that Boss had gotten up for a late-night snack. I paused the video to look over at my hungry friend and perhaps coax him to join me for a few more videos.
When I looked over toward the munching sounds, I saw something that didn't make sense. My eyes strained in the darkness to see what looked like a group of large, dog-sized figures huddled where I had left the dog food out. I couldn't see exactly what was there, so I flipped on my car's brights to investigate.
Gathered around my dog's food bowl were a half dozen of the largest raccoons I have ever seen. They were gorging themselves on the precious bounty of dog food, a delicacy among raccoon circles in this area, from what I hear.
For a moment, it was as if times stopped; the bright lights of my vehicle illuminating the thieves. One by one, they stood up and looked toward the light; their eyes glowing a bright yellow as they stared me down. I stared back, not really sure what to do in this situation. Then, like a firecracker exploded inside me, I jumped up and yelled as loudly as possible, trying to scare them off.
"Get out of here you mangy raccoons! Shoo! GET!" I yelled, charging toward them.
They scattered in all directions. I could hear growls coming from the males and hisses from the females as they scattered, climbing the nearest tree they could find. I walked back to the car and grabbed my BB pistol I bought for occasions just like this. I fired several shots into the air to scare them off. I yelled again, as loud as I could, claiming my campsite as my own and defending the remains of my pacifistic dog's dinner. That would teach them.
I boastfully stood in the middle of the campsite, reveling in my manliness and ability to defend my homestead from a group of thieves. From the darkness of night, out from his bed came Boss, slowly meandering toward me. At his side was a young raccoon, maybe 6 months old. They walked side-by-side like best friends.
A resonating growl erupted from the trees all around us. It is a sound I have never heard before, but I can equate it to pure hatred; hatred for me. They were everywhere. I grabbed my headlight, put it on its brightest setting and scanned the tree tops. As I looked around, pairs of yellow eyes pierced through the darkness of the night, focused on me. We were surrounded. The gutteral growls of anger filled the air like a symphony of rage.
Boss and the little raccoon slowly trotted toward a nearby tree. The baby climbed up about three feet and perched on the trunk, terrified. Boss sat at the base of the tree, looking up at his friend. I walked over and looked at this little raccoon, his young eyes terrified by the giant with the bright light shining in his face. I raised my BB pistol inches away from his face. He looked confused like he had never encountered anything like this before.
Much higher in a nearby tree, I could see two raccoons who seemed especially concerned. I assumed they were his parents. They exploded in sounds like I have never heard before; a cacophony of rage, terror and fear for their baby.
I looked back at the baby raccoon. He was so young. He knew he was in trouble, but was frozen in fear to move. I put my finger on the trigger, ready to shoot this dirty thief in front of his whole family.
A calm wave washed over me as I stared into this baby's eyes. He was so small, so innocent. I couldn't inflict harm on such a young animal.
"Here's what I am going to do," I said out loud to the raccoon, "I'm going to turn around, walk 10 paces, wait for 30 seeconds and then come back. You'd better not be here when I get back."
I lowered my gun, turned around and called Boss over. We walked 10 paces in the opposite direction, waited for 30 seconds and then came back. During that time, I could hear the baby scurry down the tree and up the one where his parents were waiting.
The growls continued.
I scanned the treetops. There were still yellow eyes staring at us, the angry sound of wild beasts surrounding us. At that point I decided to go on the offensive. I began firing the BB gun in the general direction of each of the eyes, trying to scare them, but not hurt them.
One by one, each of the raccoons began to descend from the trees as my firing continued. They were angry, but they didn't want to be in this area anymore. A few of the larger males tried to circle around me, but I caught them before they could and ran them off into the forest.
The last to go were the family of the baby raccoon; Boss' new friend. I watched as they dexterously climbed down the tree together and scurried off into the night. I stayed up for a few more hours with the light on, scanning for anyone who might come back. I locked the dog food back in the car.
After a while, everything was still. Boss went back and laid in his bed and I crawled into the hammock just above him. I clutched the BB pistol in my hand as I fell asleep, just in case anything decided to come back. Nothing ever did.