RACCOON Procyon lotor (Linnaeus) Called also "Coon." Length. 32 inches. Description. Form stout, tail thick, snout pointed, long hair, rather coarse. General colour gray or yellowish at base of hair, dusky or black at tips; dark on the back; face whitish, with a black area on each cheek surrounding the eye; feet black; tail very bushy, grayish-white, strongly ringed with black. Range. Eastern United States to the Rocky Mountains, replaced in Florida by the Florida Raccoon P. lotor elucus Bangs, a gaunter animal, more yellow in colour. Other varieties occur westward. It is interesting to note the pronounced difference which exists between the various species of our native wild animals as regards the readiness with which they manage to adapt themselves to the changed conditions forced upon them by the settling of the country and the consequent thinning of the forests and swamps. In a previous chapter I have mentioned the pine marten, or American sable, as a creature to all outward appearances, at least, well enough fitted for dwelling in a partially cultivated region without departing so very widely from the ways of its ancestors, but which has, nevertheless, been invariably one of the very first to disappear before advancing civilization, the value of its fur alone certainly not being sufficient to account for its extermination. The raccoon, on the other hand, furnishes us with just the opposite example. A creature of somewhat clumsy and deliberate movements as compared with the majority of the wood-dwellers; requiring a pretty large space for a hiding-place or bedroom, and generally insisting on a hollow tree of good size or cavern among the rocks for its accommodation; persecuted everywhere and at all seasons both by men and dogs, and in spite of it all, not only holding its own in most places where it has ever been found in any numbers, but apparently even increasing and establishing itself in districts where, until quite recently, it has been practically unknown. I cannot discover that they have ever been abundant in this vicinity (Southern New Hampshire) from the time when the country was first settled to the present. In fact, all those that I can obtain any account of as having been killed here, until quite recently, appear to have been regarded almost as curiosities hardly to be recognized even by the oldest hunters, yet one would suppose that formerly the country must have been much better suited to their tastes than now. From all accounts the original growth of forests that stood here was composed much more largely of hard woods, white oak, beech and maple than the woods now left us, composed principally of white pine, hemlock and birch, furnishing neither food nor lodging to the raccoon's taste. Within the last two or three years, however, raccoons have unquestionably become not uncommon in this and most of the neighbouring townships, so that coon hunts are becoming quite popular and usually prove fairly successful, the barking of coon dogs on moonlight nights in the autumn being now a common sound. Every now and then one also hears of some local sportsman or other bringing home a raccoon which he had killed quite unexpectedly when out after other game; only a week or two ago a raccoon was caught in a mink trap near here. They are also said to be increasing in the same way in other parts of New England, even in the vicinity of large towns--Boston, for example. Of course it is impossible to say as yet whether this increase is likely to continue indefinitely or to prove merely transitory. I see no reason why coons should not thrive here to a certain extent as they do in other parts of the country, for they are among the most widely distributed of our wild beasts, and although hollow trees are not perhaps of such frequent occurrence here as in hard-wood regions or in old-growth forests, I believe that they are as much so as in many places where coons are and always have been abundant. In some parts of the country they are said to dwell in burrows which they dig in the high banks of streams by preference; in rough, ledgy land they appear to prefer cavities beneath the rocks to hollow trees, even, probably finding greater safety there. Corn is more generally raised here than almost any other crop, and furnishes the coon with his favourite diet, complaints of the damage done by them in this direction having of late become quite frequent. When the corn is in the milk the raccoons strip down the ears that are within their reach, and in sheer wastefulness and wanton extravagance usually manage to destroy several times as much as they actually eat. Though so much smaller, they are said to be quite nearly related to the bears, and it would certainly appear that they possess about all of the characteristic traits of the ursine family, shuffling about the woods in a wholly bear-like manner, prepared to dine on anything that offers, either animal or vegetable; nuts, cherries, wild grapes and blackberries, bugs and reptiles are all on the list, which does not end there, however, for raccoons are skilled both at fishing and hunting, though it is probable that in both these pursuits they are compelled to depend largely upon strategy to accomplish their ends. Fish is probably not a very steady article of diet with them at any season, for, though good swimmers and not at all averse to entering the water, they lack both the skill and the suppleness of the mink and otter which would enable them to plunge in boldly and seize their prey with their teeth. From the accounts of numerous eye-witnesses it would appear to be a pretty regular practice with them to lie in wait at the edge of the water and hook out any fish that comes within reach by a smart stroke of the fore paw with claws extended. Being night wanderers, they undoubtedly often manage to surprise sleeping birds, both on the ground and among the branches, as it is a common custom with them in thick woods to travel for long distances among the tree-tops without once descending to earth, robbing the nests of birds and squirrels on the way. Try to imagine the terror of a family of squirrels, sleeping snuggled up together within their thick walls, at having this great shaggy monster come scrambling along the branches at midnight and proceed to tear their roof to pieces above their heads, compelling them to scatter as best they may, blind as humans in the darkness, and wholly at a disadvantage against this night-seeing enemy. On the ground the raccoon prowls about wet places from choice, along the borders of swamps and brooksides, following the paths made by sheep and cattle where they go down to drink. Every fallen tree on his path tempts him to mount and run along it to the other end, this habit being so universal with the raccoon family that coon-trapping is often successfully followed by simply setting steel traps on prostrate logs without any bait or other inducement whatever, though occasionally a piece of tin or other shining metal is hung just over the trap to attract his attention in the moonlight, the coon's curiosity being proverbial. It is said that on discovering anything of the kind one will amuse himself for hours sitting upright and striking it with his paws to make it whirl and spin in the air. His thick fur enables him, like the bears, to rifle bee trees in comparative safety, and to dig bumblebees' and hornets' nests out of the turf. Raccoons, like most other climbing animals, make frequent use of the nests of hawks and crows to sleep in. At other times they flatten themselves along the thick branch of a tree, their gray fur harmonizing admirably with the colour of the bark, or else they ascend to the tops of dense foliaged hemlocks and, circling their fat bodies completely around the main stem, doze away the time in comfort, supported by the numerous elastic branches about them, quite invisible from the ground. If a company of blue jays discover one in this position there is sure to be a tremendous racket right away, their shrill voices jarring the quiet of the tree-tops like an alarm clock set to awaken the coon from his slumbers. Compared with most of our flesh-eating beasts, raccoons are regular stay-at-homes. Of course there are exceptions, and undoubtedly many of them are possessed of the wandering habit, but I believe that the majority of them return regularly at day-break, however they may have passed the night, whether peacefully gathering wild grapes or berries in the thickets, or robbing the farmer's hen-roost. This last is perhaps about the worst form of vice in which they ever indulge. A coon at large in a hen-house appears to lose all discretion or fear of final retribution, killing right and left while his enthusiasm lasts, and then gorging himself on the results of his carnage. Unlike foxes, most of whom carefully avoid a second visit to any farmyard that they have once ravaged in this manner, a coon is likely to return the following night to go on with his horrid work, and in most instances is made to suffer the penalty of his misdeeds--a characteristic which would appear to indicate a certain dullness of intellect, at least as compared with that of the fox; for as long as the latter is able to quietly capture two or three chickens each week under cover of the corn, he seems to realize that there is but little danger of calling down the vengeance of the farmer upon his head, and may keep up the game for months; but wholesale robbery he knows to be a more serious matter, and hardly to be repeated with safety. The track of the raccoon is easily recognized either in soft earth or snow, the footprints being long with a narrow and quite distinct heel, almost like that of the human foot. They are commonly in pairs a few inches apart, one a little in advance, the pairs separated by a distance of something less than a yard, though of course, as the coon varies his speed the order of his footprints changes also. The track of a skunk might be supposed to answer to this description, having as it does the similar heel mark; its small size, however, as well as the fact that its toes are not separated, as in the raccoon's tracks, serves as a distinction between the two. The woodchuck's track is really almost the only one that could well be mistaken for that of a raccoon. To distinguish the two one has only to remember that the woodchuck's footprints are shorter, and show the mark of a pretty well defined thumb like that of a squirrel. The young raccoons vary from three to six in number, and are born in April or May. At first they are as blind and helpless as young kittens, and remain under the care and protection of their parents for the first season at least. Their crying when they are separated from the old ones is said to resemble that of a human infant under similar circumstances. The adults also have a kind of whimpering cry or call which is often heard on moonlight nights. It seems to be of a somewhat variable nature, at times resembling the quavering note of a screech owl or laughing hoot of a barred owl, and again sounding like a colt's whinnying. This similarity to other sounds of the country renders it hard to identify, and from various circumstances I am inclined to think that it is never to be heard at any great distance. On the arrival of cold weather young and old curl themselves up together; occasionally several families will occupy the same hollow tree. In this manner they pass the first and severest part of the winter in a more or less lethargic condition, hardly relapsing into such a state of unconsciousness that a few days of warm weather will not tempt some of them out on the snow. Back they go again, however, into winter quarters at the advent of the next cold wave, and for the remainder of the season confine themselves to naps of a few days or at most a week's duration. By the time spring has fairly taken possession of the woods they are all out again, searching among the sodden leaves and debris left by the last rain of the winter for newly awakened snakes and beetles. It is at this season that they are oftenest compelled to go hungry, and, like the other hibernating beasts, they lose flesh rapidly during the spring months, though the omnivorous nature of their appetites gives them a decided advantage over the woodchucks and the rest of the vegetable eaters in the general scramble for food. It is curious that the quaint custom of washing meat of all kinds before eating it should be clung to so religiously by the raccoons of all parts of the country. Raccoons are so easily domesticated and prove such amusing pets that accounts of tame coons are to be picked up almost anywhere, and although exhibiting plenty of originality in most ways, they all seem to agree in this one particular: that when meat is oftered them it must be thoroughly washed or else eaten only under protest apparently, many a coon preferring to go hungry rather than eat flesh which it has not first been allowed to wash. Moreover, they are not willing to let any one else do the work for them, insisting rather on being allowed to do it all themselves, holding their food in both fore paws and sousing it about in the water until it is reduced to a pallid, flabby, unappetizing mess which only a coon could look upon without misgiving. The latin title lotor, as well as the names applied to this species by both German and French naturalists, and I think by some of the Indian tribes of this country, have reference to this washing habit. The coon never has, and probably never will achieve, that fame and popularity in the North which it holds in the South. It undoubtedly owes the position which it holds there to the peculiar mixture of insight and imagination with which the negro observes the wild things about him, looking upon them as little wild people dwelling in the woods and fields as best they may, and hardly differing from his own race except as he himself differs from the whites; the raccoon to them is "brother coon" and the rabbit "brother rabbit." Before the war, the white children on the Southern plantations obtained most of their knowledge of natural history from the slaves, and although they received real facts and quaint negro ideas and superstitions wonderfully blended, I am convinced that with it all they got an appreciation of the true innerselves of the little beasts not to be obtained from books or any amount of the scientific research of the trained naturalists. The Northern farmer, lacking this early training, in too many instances wholly ignores the wild creatures that inhabit his wood-lot, except when compelled to defend himself against their inroads on his property. It is the exception, even among farmer boys in the North, to ever take the trouble to study their ways closely in order more successfully to shoot or trap them for profit. Most of those who endeavour to add to their pin money by trapping and shooting during the comparatively idle season of late fall and winter and early spring, simply follow the direction given them by those who followed the profession before them and who, undoubtedly, in their time received the same from their elders.