Working the flats

  It is that time of year when the north wind starts to push the tides out a bit further and further.  The pier will soon not have enough water to cover the crab traps and they will have to be stored until spring.  While this low, low tide is not the ideal time for fishing from the pier for us, it is perfect for the critters that scavenge the mudflats left open.  After being covered for so long, the mud houses many small crabs, shrimp and other shellfish.  When the tide goes out and exposes the mud to open air, shore critters  make haste to scavenge for breakfast.

  Early this morning, I eased my way to the pier.  It was the perfect morning to be out since all was quiet.  After I reached the point where the marsh meets the water, I noticed that the tide was out and the all important mudflats were exposed.  Thinking this might be a good critter-watching time, I settled in for a spell.  It did not take long before my first guest arrived.  A half-grown raccoon wobbled his way out of the marsh and immediately started "fishing",  Those little front paws swished the water until it was muddied which confused the tiny shrimp that had collected in the two inches of water.  Overnight, the tiny shrimp moved to the safety of the shallows but now, a predator had found them!  The little coon was smart enough to know that confusing the shrimp would allow him to catch more.  After getting a dozen or so of the tiny morsels, the raccoon moved on to bigger and better things,  He started digging for the small crabs that were buried in the mud.  After just a couple of tries, I could here the crunching of a shell.  The coon had a crab!  Breakfast was served to a hungry raccoon!

  The mudflats see a lot of action during the winter months.  Besides the raccoons, many shorebirds, fox, otters and even the bobcats will visit and dine upon what they find.  They all know that the flats provide easy pickings if they do not mind getting a bit muddy.  The pier provides me with a front row seat for this never-ending show!

You Missed a Spot!

  The little raccoon friend has been a regular visitor to the back porch both morning and evening.  He comes to share a meal with Ms. Nycto, the Bayou Princess Cat.  She seems to tolerate the rascal and he seems to ignore her presence so they get along well.  This morning, the raccoon (now named "Chase" by my sweet granddaughter, Mary Ruth) actually seemed to beg for his breakfast.  He stood up on his hind legs and held his little paws out as if asking "Breakfast, please?"  How could I resist?  Of course!  This morning, he ate toast with me. 

  Later when Mark and I were heading to the pier, I noticed little paw prints on the garden gate.  These were none other than Chase's prints!  He left evidence of his entering the garden!  I had to snicker when I saw the prints as it reminded me of so long ago when I would be washing windows and my kids, who were youngsters at the time, would tell me that I missed a spot.  This was proudly done while smearing their jelly laden hands all over the inside of the window that I had just washed! I gave up!  How can you compete with three lively youngsters?  To be honest, I have not done a lot of window-washing since then!  Today, however, the little paw prints inspired me to repaint the garden gates.  As soon as I finish clearing the gardens themselves, the gates will be scrubbed and given a fresh coat of paint!

  Chase, the young raccoon, will most likely become a permanent fixture here on the Bayou.  With that, I suppose I shall find more paw prints scattered about the place as he tries to inform me that I "missed a spot".  I would love to see him venture down in the creek bed and make a home there rather than at my doorstep but, hey, while he is here, you just gotta love him!

Its a Cruel World Sometimes...

I awoke in the middle of the night to such a ruckus in the yard. Ahh..raccoons! They seemed to be in the tall oak tree just a few feet from the house. This is a tall, Red Oak or "Water Oak". It towers over the house unlike the more squatty, wide Live Oaks. It is probably a good fifty or sixty feet tall and has few limbs as it was damaged by storms in the past. The coons seemed to be quite a ways up the tree judging by the sounds. This kept up for some time, making for a sleepless night for me and an miserable night for Ezzy. She was agitated by their screams and wanted to be let out so she might squelch that awful racket! After a night of squabbles in the tree top over the house, I heard a loud "whomp" as a raccoon smacked the roof. After a bit of clambering around on the rooftop...quiet..too quiet. No more shrill snarls, gurgling growls or menacing hisses. Just quiet. The dog soon settled down and I fell back to sleep. Ahh...peaceful sleep!

In the morning, Ms. Ez and I headed to the pier unaware that something was amiss. We enjoyed our usual walk but were chased inside by the light mist of a rain. Once in, I was startled to hear moans..sad, painful moans. Ezzy again became agitated. She wanted outside! I listened again to hear a weak moan...something was hurting! Leaving the dog inside, I slipped out and made my way around the side of the house. For an instance, I did not see anything that could be making the sound but then my eyes focused through the early morning grayness. In the rose garden was a small mound of dark fur. Another weak moan and the little body convulsed. Oh, my goodness! My poor baby raccoon! I eased over to the small furry heap. The little raccoon tried to lift its head. It was then that I realized that my baby raccoon was dying. Its back hips were broken and it was convulsing badly from the pain. Within minutes, the life drained from its little body and tears welled up in my eyes.

This young raccoon would come for handouts almost every day. I believe this is one of the little ones that I had found near the pier. As the raccoon aged, it never caught up in size with the others around the Bayou. I called it "my baby" even though it was an adult. Compared to others its age, it had only reached about half the size it should have..probably only weighing in about six or seven pounds. Although, it was small in stature, it was huge in character! The little rascal was my friend. Just last month, I wrote how it would come receive handouts of cat food and sunflower seeds. The little tyke would climb up my pants leg trying to grasp my camera but never once tried to "bite the hand that fed it". Now, my little friend is gone.

Mark came out and buried the raccoon in the drizzling rain. It was fitting that it was such a dreary morning for such a dismal task. If it is possible to mourn for a wild animal, I was surely doing it. Later, Son came out and placed some concrete pallets on the burial site to keep any marauding animals from trying to uncover the body. When I took Ezzy out for her afternoon hike, I noticed the site. There sitting on the ground were two concrete chunks..one laid down flat and the other sitting upright. A headstone..Son knew I would miss my little friend and he thought this might be a fitting memorial. Sure..the "headstone" will not stay there forever but somehow...it does seem "right". A little life cut short.

I am assuming that the "coon fight" from the night before was the large, rogue male protecting his territory. I had witnessed this time and time again. The large, dominant male will kill any young that is not his own. This is the time of year that the females are having their little ones so the large males are extremely territorial. My poor little raccoon must have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Perhaps, he was seeking comfort by crawling to the rose garden..hunting for the one friend that could help him...but I could not. And my heart breaks....