Interstate Transport

Oh, no, not again, I thought as I watched him get out of the truck with a pet carrier in hand and a grin on his face. He walked up the path and met me at the door and said You'll never guess!! What I could guess was that it would have four legs and be in need of care, feeding and attention in an already overcrowded and overburdened household. My vet tech husband opened the carrier and not one but three baby raccoons spilled out, tumbling over each other and chirping. A split second later, all hell broke loose as the dogs caught the scent and the cats scattered in alarm. He shouted at me, They're orphans! I sighed. They'll be no trouble, this with all the sincerity he could muster, they don't take much raising. I sighed again.

We lived in a log cabin on top of a mountain in Maine and had just finished adding a screened porch where we would sit and watch the sunset and enjoy the peace and stillness of the country. Having no close neighbors, the dogs could run free and the cats spent their days lazing in the sun and bird watching from the safety of the porch. It was a tranquil place, filled with the serenity that comes from nature and I treasured those quiet evenings. It all came crashing down with the arrival of the raccoons.

They had to be bottle fed and then cleaned several times a day. They learned to climb in a matter of hours and the screening gave in almost immediately. We replaced it with chicken wire, not being willing to invest more than that on what was sure to be a casualty again. They had to be taught to swim and to wash their food - each day we would make several treks to the pond - and they would follow us with enthusiastic chirping and relentless curiosity about everything. I drew the line at letting them in the house and it was a line they crossed with reckless abandon. The dogs took to them immediately and although the cats were initially apprehensive, they came round soon enough.
They were amazingly active little creatures and in no time had learned how to open cabinets and get into anything that was paper or plastic. Metal took a beating but maintained its integrity. Their climbing was more agile and adept every day and the night of the thunderstorm they were up a tree when it started to rain and no amount of coaxing brought them down. We found them the next morning, curled up and asleep on the back deck.

Weeks turned into months and as they grew and matured, I knew we would have to face the inevitable task of returning them to the wild. One sunny Saturday morning, it was time. We loaded them into a carrier, packed a basket of fruits and nuts, and headed for the Massachusetts state line. We'd found a nature preserve where there were vegetable gardens and deep woods and a small lake. I felt like it was the best we could do to protect them and give them their freedom at the same time. We took them far into the woods and waited until they were distracted to make our escape. Then we walked quietly out, praying that they would not follow. I knew that if they did, I'd never find the strength to leave them again. I listened for little footsteps or their familiar chirping but I never looked back and eventually I couldn't hear them anymore. We had given them back to nature and and although I knew God would keep His eye on them, a little bit of my heart was broken.