Not an ounce of truth...

  It was a grey morning here on the Bayou...grey and chilly.  As I grow older, the winter's chill gets to me.  I feel it now whereas cold never bothered me in the past.  Perhaps it is a rite of passage.  When you are young and full of energy, even the weather does not stop you but as you age, lingering a bit longer around the old woodstove is necessary.  You deserve it. I deserve it.  So...I did linger...but not before a quick run down to the pier.  That comes without thinking...just do it.  Every last morning after the first mug of coffee, the stroll down the hillside and to the end of the pier is a necessity.

  This morning, only a young raccoon was found out and about.  The little fellow was putting into practice all of the hunting and fishing skills he was taught last year.  Belly deep in the cold water did not seem to bother him at all as his front paws skillfully swished around in the mud.  This lesson was taught by his mother and, obviously, he learned it well.  Swish!  Swish!  A tiny crab was caught and the coon had a bit of breakfast.

  Oddly enough, most of us were taught that raccoons wash their food by swishing it around in water.  After watching the critters, it is easy to see that there is not an ounce of truth in that lesson.  Raccoons have a very highly established sense of touch.  Water heightens that in the coon's paws.  When you see one "washing" its food, it is actually "feeling" it.  A raccoon knows exactly what it finds underwater or in the mud and has no desire to cleanse it.  This is its hunting technique.  A coon does not "look" for food...it "feels" for it. When you think about it, the method is spectacular.  Since the raccoon "feels" for its food, it can keep its head up and be alert for predators.  

  The little coon worked the shallows for a while before scampering into the marsh.  It was bedtime for the little one.  Either it would hole up under some of the marsh mats or work his way up the hill to burrow down in a hollow tree.  Come nightfall, he will be back on "active duty" hunting for enough food to fill his belly.  Me?  I headed back to the Little Bayou House for another mug of coffee and the warmth of the woodstove.