good-bye rocky

somewhere in the inner sanctum of glorious sleep this morning, i heard the ravens.  they were gloating as only corvids can, shouting to the world that death had begun yet another tenderizing process on the sickly sweet flesh of a former north woods denizen. 

awaking did not stop the commotion.

i sauntered to the window and 3 ravens were tearing into something that wasn’t there the day before.  i grabbed my binoculars and saw the raccoon.  dead.  it’s eyes already gone, its fur plucked to expose the soft underbelly that every mammal shares.

then, i remembered sensitivity and insensitivity and thought, “well this is fitting.”

i wish i could make all this up but i can’t.  instead, these are the unique permutations nature hurls into its “life formula”.  given patience, everyone has the opportunity to observe them.  it’s called “letting stuff happen”.  it explains why i sat for hours in an a) observation blind; or b) beneath a nest tree and did nothing but scribble notes into a write-in-the-rain notebook while fending off a) black flies and hangovers; or b) hypothermia.

once one has put in his or her dues into field biology, everything else seems effortless. 

i gotta truck full of patience.

i am assuming the weakened raccoon came back overnight and searched for some scraps then, on its way back to the forest, gave up.  i look at it two ways:  i have closure and there is one less raccoon to contend with.  let’s call it a win/win situation.  oh, and there’s a bonus:  now i get to watch the raccoon gleaned of its viscera and fat and meat, unless of course, a wolf comes in and just takes it away (most likely scenario).

with spring, the closure of one life will give way to the young of the year and soon, the raccoon won’t matter.  life will go on…sometimes in my back yard but most of the time, somewhere else.


About borealbilly

i am cursed by nocturnal self-awareness. View all posts by borealbilly

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