It’s a morning in early June and social media is abuzz with college commencement speeches. I sit barefoot on the deck with a good cup of mud just as the sun is clearing the eastern treeline. A light mist drapes the pond. Fish are jumping. The birds are busy with daily announcements, proclamations, warnings. A breath of wind carries the sweetness of wild grapes in bloom. It’s nice.
The raccoons raided the bird feeders overnight, bent the shepherd's hooks to the ground and licked up the hummingbird nectar. The shepherd’s hooks have aluminum cones near the top to ward off climbers but the raccoons shimmy up the poles, poke their noses in the cones and use their weight to bring the whole contraption down.
We have a platform feeder five feet above ground on a wooden post. I wrapped the post with repurposed vinyl making a tube about eight inches diameter and four feet tall. That night we saw raccoons on the platform. I put out the scout cam and caught the buggers jumping to the top of the tube, so I raised it a foot off the ground. The raccoons climbed the pole inside the tube. I packed the inside with scraps of rusted chicken wire with prickly ends. The raccoons pulled it out. I reduced the vinyl to a six inch diameter. I’m waiting.
They are thinking, conniving, persistent animals, admirable as they are maddening. They pull out newly planted snapdragons for the sheer joy of it. They wash their grubby paws in the birdbath just to watch the water turn brown. The other evening one was poised at the edge of the yard, watching a family of grazing geese. The gander knows a raccoon will take a gosling given the chance. The goose charged the coon and nipped it in the butt, sending it hightailing for cover.
At night we hear the coons squealing and squalling amongst themselves— over food or territory or whatever it is they squeal and squall about. They are handsome with their lush fur and ringed tails, but are best known for the black mask worn about the eyes. It’s a befitting trademark shared by common thieves.
A southern breeze has brushed the mist from the pond but the birdsong goes unchecked. Several dozen species— cardinals, catbirds, thrushes, orioles, finches, wrens. The variety is impressive and their voices mask the fact that bird numbers are decreasing worldwide, some dramatically. From our experience, it was common to see upwards of 20 orioles at once 15 years ago where now there are three. Where there were 20 swallows dipping low over the pond, today there are half that. But their songs remain, carrying the illusion that all is well, or well enough.
We found a snake under the jon boat last week, a milk snake, and realized it was the first we’d seen in more than a year. They used to be regulars. A lot of snakes were regulars. These days we see a handful a month if we’re lucky. We could make a list of similar declines: dragonflies, frogs, toads, butterflies, grasshoppers, meadowlarks. The list would be long and legit. If trends continue, regional and widespread extinctions are certain and a cascade of ecosystem disruptions will follow.
Not everything is declining and not everywhere. There are pockets of abundance, including some relative newcomers. My grandpa would never have imagined an Indiana with widespread white-tailed deer, resident Canada geese, river otters, wild turkeys, and bald eagles. Animals with broad geographic ranges, those less picky about diet and good at adapting to urban environments, are doing especially well. Think rats, coyotes, feral cats… and raccoons.
It’s mid morning and the sun has lapped the dew from the cattails and is sprinkling the wild raspberries with sugar. My coffee thermos is empty. I thought I’d write something light, descriptive, maybe mildly humorous, and for once avoid environmental concerns. But the threat of biodiversity loss wormed in as it does in our everyday lives: insidiously, often without our knowing. When the birds are singing and fish are jumping and I’m enjoying a fine cup of brew on a warm and peaceful morning, how bad can it be?
Another year of graduation ceremonies and another cohort of brilliant, creative minds unleashed on the world. They are a formidable force with grand dreams and expectations. Many are looking at a June sunrise for all it is and is not, and see they have everything to lose. The challenges they face are complex and intertwined and require transformational solutions, but these youngsters have the tenacity of raccoons and are hell-bent on healing the wounds of an ailing planet. Stay out of their way.
