I was going to return to the photo of the cartoonists around the table, but before I got to it, I scrolled across this photo I’ve been meaning to show you since the middle of summer:
Yeah, it’s a trash can. It’s at Nesbit Park (also known locally as Stanky Creek- you didn’t think I made that up, didja?) I was there to ride the dirt trails early one morning and spotted this. It was interesting enough to me to cause me to take the photo. Anyone else see what I saw?
…
That’s right. The raccoons were going in and out of this thing at some point. Their little foot and handprints are all over it. My brother (hi, Jeff!) had some fascinating stories about raccoons from the times he was a Park Ranger (Hi, Park Rangers who are currently not working unless it’s for free because our congress doesn’t know how to solve problems amongst themselves without resorting to inconveniencing the real world!)
Raccoons, I have decided, are well placed to become the next species to cause worldwide trouble the same way we have. My prediction is that the little snots will discover fire soon, and burn us all out and take our Twinkies (or whatever feeble snack cakes we’ve been reduced to eating since Twinkies don’t really exist any more. And don’t wave those silly anemic little things they call twinkies at me, ’cause they’re NOT. Wrong size. Not a twinkie. Period. Who could ever think otherwise?)
You read it here first, people. When the raccoon uprising begins, remember that I was the prophet of doom who raised the issue for the very first time. Build me a monument on the spot where the hairy little bandits finally corner and quarter me as an example to those who oppose the Raccoon Empire.
Better start getting your affairs in order, then, because I think that’s definitely a burn mark at the lower right side of the barrel…
Sounds like you’ve been reading too much RJ from “over the hedge”. I for one welcome my new raccoon overlords. I bet you could pay your taxes in Twinkies and RC cola.
No racoons in Hawaii. There is always a safe place in any apocalypse.
I feel the same safety here in Oz. We just have possums and bats trying to break into the house. They tend to use the chimney most often.
Why is a pawmark on the outside of a bin a fearful thing? I mean, it’s not like they’ve worked out how to open the bin, like a parrot can. They haven’t even damaged the bin, and nothing has been pulled out of it. What’s the fear?
Oh, the fear over them doesn’t come from this particular garbage can- from which they’re welcome to take what they can, of course. The worry comes from some of their behaviors in parks where they ‘compete’ for food with the people who bring it into the park. The story that really got to me was about a society of raccoons on a North Carolina island- where their behavior got more and more organized until they were sending decoys out in plain site who would dance around and beg while other individuals would come up to the picnic tables from the other direction, and take food from the table where people were still sitting. When the bandits ran away carrying what they could, the decoys would leave. All the ‘coons would then meet up in the trees and share out the food. Pretty sophisticated behavior sets, and if, like I say, they discover how to make and master fire, we’re in deep doodoo.
If the raccoons are our new overlords, the rats in my attic are definitely their foot soldiers. The invasion has begun!
I donno, Greg… I think raccoons are smarter than that. They’re crafty and clever and I would think if they wanted to take over, they would have already.
It’s just too much work to. They’ve seen what a mess we’ve made of it and probably thought, “Eh, that looks like a lot of work with no juicy tidbit of an outcome. I say we stay away the hell Away from That nonsense! Picking trash is a Lot less stressful or a waste of time. Better crunchies and noms too.”