Brilliant Bandits of the Night

While I have a great love for badgers, possums, gophers and other such woodland creatures, I have both an immense fascination with, and illogical fear of, the raccoon.

The raccoon is both glamorous and terrifying to this usually fearless lad. The raccoon, or “El Mapache” as the people of the Andean mountains respectfully call it (to be fair, all Spanish-speaking people call the raccoon, el mapache, and there are no raccoons in the Andean Mountains, but I like to write with a little “flare”), is a true anomaly.

One of the most intelligent animals by any account, they have learned to maintain their idyllic forest lifestyle and habitat, while still taking full advantage of the delights and advances of human civilization through periodic raids into backyard trash bins and less-than-secure campsites. Unlike other mammals that seek to prey on the goods and sundries of humanity, such as meece (the accurate plural of mouse- see Roget’s Accurate Word Thesaurus), they outwit, outlast, and outplay all human attempts to trap them or keep them away from trash bins in neighborhoods near to woodlands. El Mapache cannot be trapped.

And I would know. One of my true passions and hobbies is badger and marmot trapping. Of course, I do not trap them for their meat or sell their pelts. In fact, due to my immense affection for woodland creatures, I always set them free. And the traps I set are painless. I have simply found it impossible to get the undivided attention of a marmot, or even a second glance before scurrying off into the woods, unless they are trapped before you.

But it is well known in the trapper community that raccoons cannot be trapped. Not that I would ever attempt to trap “El Mapache” in fact the idea of even trying to trap a raccoon makes me shiver in the dark of night on late winter nights (or perhaps it is the cold). But, regardless of my personal fears and trepidations regarding said cunning creature, they simply know better. Some would even say, they are our betters.

So be wary and respectful of our ring-tailed allies, they may disappoint on occasion when you have thrown out a box of Krispy Kreme, only to remember the next morning their was one left, head to the trash bin to fetch it, and find that “El Mapache” has paid a visit.