I couldn’t sleep the other night.  Or more accurately, I had a difficult time getting to sleep.  For that reason, I found myself hanging out on the patio into the wee hours of the morning.  I was thankful it was a cool evening without much humidity.  Contentment from the darkness surrounding me with a relaxing embrace carried with it relaxation I found quite refreshing, not to mention necessary.  We humans spend too little time just enjoying the world around us and too much time hurrying to and fro, stressing about every little detail of existence, and ultimately allowing our lives to atrophy in stale little corners of the universe.  How much do we miss in the process?

Knowing the circus of animals often parading through these parts in the dark of night, I took with me a bit of cat food, a few slices of bread, a wedge of cheese, some fruit (grapes and apple wedges), and a beer.  The beer was for me, by the way.

You see, I’ve determined the raccoon raiders were intelligent enough to begin showing up in the evening, generally making their first appearance around dusk.  This affords them the opportunity to get to the various food caches I leave outside: inside the fence for the raccoons and outside the fence for the opossums.  The idea was that the opossums came through before midnight and the raccoons came an hour or two before dawn.  It worked out well, at least until the midnight marauders learned to stop by early so they could eat both meals.  Little masked bastards.

There is no real way to solve the problem aside from not feeding them at all.  Otherwise, I’d have to monitor them each night and ensure they didn’t eat the opossum food before momma possum and her friends had a chance to indulge.  Well, that’s just not gonna happen.  Last night afforded me just such an opportunity, however, and it was quite entertaining.

The time? Around 11:00 PM.

A refreshing breeze wafted around me and gently caressed me with soft encirclement.  The sky overhead was busy with almost-silent planes scurrying about like roaches when captured by light.  The food I carried was deposited in the middle of the patio, after which I placed the cat food outside the fence for the opossums.  I lit a cigarette, stepped into the shadows, and took sop of the ice-cold Negra Modelo I was smart enough to bring with me.  All I could do was wait.  Either sleep would take me inside, or I would be here to see what mayhem ensued.  It mattered not to me which it might be.

A few minutes later, and I suspect it was less than five, I stamped out my cigarette, and then I froze.  I heard something approaching from around the corner.  It was definitely in the underbrush between home and bushes, movement intentionally masked by whatever sound-cloaking skills might be employed.  I recognized its somewhat unsuccessful attempt to remain silent as it approached.  I was already looking in that direction; I just watched and waited.

It suddenly appeared: a fearsome beast of a raccoon, perhaps 25 pounds (11 kilograms) and still not as large as some I’d seen.  He peeked around the corner and through the fence as he continued moving forward.  He paused only momentarily to view the patio, an action so quick and camouflaged that it was almost indiscernible in the shadows, then he walked forward a few more steps and began climbing.  He was approximately 25 feet (7.6 meters) away and scaling the fence with ease.

“Hey,” I said.  I took one step toward him.  He paused briefly, then he continued moving upward.  That moment of indecision was so hidden with speed that I could not even be certain I had seen it.  I took another step which thrust me out of the shadows, and then I methodically moved toward him.  “Hey, it’s not your turn.”

This time he stopped.  It was more than noticeable.  Suspended midway up the fence and peering at me through the lattices, he hung there as though trying to determine if the promise of food was more important than whatever threat I might pose.  I too stopped, not wishing to inflict on him any more panic than was necessary to keep him off the patio and away from sustenance meant for my opossum friends.  I stood motionless.

We remained in this position for no more than 15 seconds before he again rejoined his ascent.  Realizing this was not a good thing, I took one more step.  “I said it’s not your turn yet,” I stressed.

All movement stopped.  I stayed where I was as he remained suspended near the top of the fence.  Although I could not possibly see his face, I knew he was studying me closely.

And then it was over.  He backed down the fence, although this movement was slower than his ascent, and after reaching the ground he stood looking through the fence at me.  I remained in my position and waited.  Slowly, he lowered himself to all four paws, yet he still did not move away.

I could almost smell the raccoon’s contemplation.  Neither of us moved and I did not speak again.  This stalemate was satisfactory from my perspective since, as I said, I did not wish to frighten him so much that the patio would represent a threat in the future.  I only wished instead to halt his advance long enough for the opossum(s) to come through and eat before the masked bandits consumed everything.

Finally, after perhaps 30 seconds in these positions, he slowly moved away.  Walking along the fence and back around the corner, he disappeared in silence.

After standing my ground for another minute or so, I determined he had in fact moved on and I returned to my comfortable spot in the shadowed corner where I could remain unseen and unobtrusive.  My intention was not to traumatize these many visitors.  Rather, I only wished to consume my insomniac evening by trying to ensure momma possum (and/or her cohorts) received a bite to eat before I relinquished the remaining goodies to the raccoons.  I stood quietly in the dark knowing well I would not be alone for long.