Procyon lotor

Raccoons. Procyon lotor. They're not exactly everyone's favorite mammal.

This looks like a good place to be.

When I was in graduate school, I went to take the trash to the Dumpster across the street, and when I opened it, a family of raccoons greeted me—no, more like scared the you-know-what out of me. I ran back to the duplex and asked my friend Patrick if he would take the trash out because I was scared. Raccoons have rightfully earned the nickname "trash pandas." My old neighbor across the street likes to trap them and then, well, you can imagine what he does with them next. The campus where I work has a Native American-derived name that allegedly means "raccoon," so I've been warming up to them a little more, especially now that a raccoon sculpture greets me when I pull into the parking lot. These aren't exactly the animals that make me ooh and ahh when I'm out in the woods, but when I see one climbing a tree and I have a great vantage point with my camera, I forget all of my previous judgments and fire away.

I had just finished a 2.7-mile hike at a local park that I don't frequent nearly enough. Earlier in my hike, I had photographed what I thought was a beaver but later discovered was a mink. What a find! It was already a good day of surprises. The end of the trail concludes with a long, stone staircase that leads to the parking lot. From the top, I could see some people pointing to the ground along the small creek next to the parking area. "It's a raccoon!" they said, and soon it was climbing a tree. It snuggled itself on a branch, next to the trunk. I made my way down the stairs and positioned myself under the tree for a different angle. The sun started to break through, casting a glow on the raccoon. Light is my friend. Light makes me lucky. I took a few snaps until it was clear the raccoon was not moving anytime soon.

The face that brought me to tears.

On my hike, I met two friendly women on the trail. We bonded over seeing some turtles on the pond, and I told them I would send them some photos of the turtles when I got home. As I was looking through my camera roll in the parking lot to find the turtle photos, this raccoon image consumed me. I could not stop looking at it. What was so compelling about this rodent's face and eyes that nearly brought me to tears (and later did)? We made contact.

In SoulCollage®, we talk a lot about the images we select for our cards being reflections of our soul. The tree provided a safe place to rest. Perhaps it felt vulnerable with all of the humans around and needed to retreat. Its posture reminded me of what I would like to do on so many days, hide in the arm of a tree and take solace there. A raccoon's most important sense is that of touch, something I long for but cannot get right now. I wanted to hug that creature, as crazy as that sounds. Who wants rabies? What I really want is to hug humans, but there is so much fear with that and no sense of when that will be possible. Who wants COVID-19, or to spread it to someone else?

Nap time?

Before Sunday, I wouldn't have imagined feeling connected to what I had previously deemed a rodent, undeserving of my attention. Nature has a way of transforming us and reminding us that we are all indeed part of the larger fabric of creation. Maybe creation knows we are suffering and wants to offer us compassion. May we stay open to wonder and unexpected graces from unexpected creatures.