A Raccoon Named Norman

Norman was a raccoon. He lived in a tree in the woods behind the big yellow house near the river.  Norman lived high up in the tree.  It was a good place to live.

He could see all around from up there in the tree. 

 

Humans lived in the big yellow house with Hound and the old orange cat.  Cat was only outside in the daytime but you never knew where Hound was going to be, in or out, night or day.  Norman didn’t trust Hound at all but the humans seemed nice enough and squirrel said they didn’t seem to mind if they sometimes came to the bird feeders where they had nuts and seeds and fruit and, in the winter, other good things to eat as well.  Norman had stopped at few times when the pickings had been slim on his nightly scavenging rounds. Sometimes the humans left special treats to eat right where Norman could reach them.  Norman appreciated that.  Yes, Norman liked the humans.  They were seldom any bother like hound.  They were good neighbors in a human sort of way.

 

There is one thing Norman noticed about the humans that Norman found interesting.  The humans that live in the big yellow house carried their food outside to eat it almost every night from early summer right through the falling of the leaves in the autumn.  Norman was glad the humans liked to eat outside the big yellow house. 

 

Norman would watch the humans preparing their food, things like hamburgers and hot dogs and golden ears of sweet corn.  They put these over a fire in a pit in the yard near the garden and when that wonderful aroma was almost more than Norman could bear the humans would take the food away from the fire and place it on the table and the humans would eat.  Sometimes there was strawberries and grapes and apples and pears, cucumbers and tomatoes and potatoes all cut up with a very tasty sauce on them; and sometimes there would be chicken.  Oh, how Norman loved chicken. 

 

Norman sniffed the air.  Sure enough, the humans were outside again and making food to eat.  He’d be patient and wait and when the fire was out and the humans had gone inside the big yellow house, when it was dark, Norman would climb down from his tree house and cross the yard by the big yellow house to where the humans gathered to eat their food.  He was almost certain to find some wonderful treats left behind by the humans for him to enjoy for his own dinner.  Norman was getting very hungry as he watched and waited from high up in the big tree near the edge of the woods.

 

Norman sniffed the air again.  He could smell cucumbers and watermelon and something sweet, something as sweet as honey, and he could smell strawberries and was that corn roasting over the fire in the pit.  Norman thought it was.

 

Norman sniffed the air again.  “Oh, what is that wonderful smell?  Chicken, yes, chicken, I’m sure I smell chicken,” Norman thought as he leaned a little farther out of his den for a closer look.  Norman absolutely loved chicken.  It was his favorite food in the whole wide world. 

 

Norman remembered his younger days when he and his cousins Reggie and Richard would go on chicken raids at night at Mr. Farmer’s and bring home chickens for dinner.  Mama was always so proud of them.  Then one night something happened to Richard.  There was a big boom, louder than thunder, and they never saw Richard again.  Soon after that Reggie and Norman left home and went out to live on their own.  Reggie settled on the west side of the brook that flows into the big river and Norman settled on the east side of the brook in the big tree near the edge of the woods behind the big yellow house. Norman could smell that chicken now. The humans were definitely preparing chicken to eat.   

 

Norman sat in the doorway of his treehouse den and watched the humans eating all that wonderful food.  He noticed that Hound was there too, making his rounds from person to person to get his share of the food they were eating.  Norman grumbled and growled to himself every time one of the humans tossed a treat to Hound.  He hoped Hound wouldn’t eat all the leftovers.  Norman really wanted some of that chicken if he could just get his paws on it.   Finally Hound curled up under the table where all the food was spread out and went to sleep. 

 

Norman was having so much fun watching the humans and imagining he would have as soon as those humans went inside the big yellow house that he almost fell out of his tree when he leaned even farther out of his den to keep a closer eye on that feast spread out below him.  Norman grabbed onto a branch just in time to catch himself from falling to the ground and probably waking Hound.  For just a moment Norman was dangling in mid-air but with one swing he was able to get his foot onto the branch and pull himself up.  He made himself comfortable on the branch just below his den.

 

What was that?  Norman heard someone laughing, laughing and chuckling right out loud.  He looked around and looked up to see Simon Gray Squirrel looking down and him and laughing his whiskers off.  Apparently, Simon had seen him nearly fall out of his tree and thought it was very funny.

 

“Don’t laugh,” Norman said with a snarl.  “Stop laughing.  I like squirrel almost as much as I do chicken, so don’t laugh at me, Simon Squirrel.  Don’t laugh.”

 

Simon couldn’t help himself.  He chuckled one more time and then quick as a wink sprinted from one branch to another and then in one flying leap landed safely in another tree.  He stopped laughing.  Simon knew he would be no match for an angry raccoon and anyhow, he liked Norman.  He didn’t want to get in a fight with him.  Simon scampered another couple tree distance away, discretion being the better side of valor.

 

After a few more minutes, Norman went back inside his den. He hoped the humans would go inside the big yellow house soon, go in before Stanley Skunk came snooping around.  It was already dark and quite late.  Stanley wasn’t very good about sharing and Norman wasn’t particularly fond of Stanley, not that he was really a bad sort, but Stanley could be a real stinker in more ways than one. 

 

The church bell in the village square had already chimed ten o’clock when the humans finally all went inside the big yellow house and called Hound to come inside too.  Norman was hoping that Hound would go inside.  Sometimes Hound refused and that meant trouble for Norman.  He had to be careful that Hound didn’t see him.  He wouldn’t be able to go scavenging around the yard for leftovers if Hound was around. Norman was glad when he saw Hound go in with the humans.

 

If Hound caught Norman nosing around the yard he would howl and chase Norman until he was treed as high as he could go. Hound would sit under the tree and bark loud enough to waken the deaf man that lived two blocks away.  One of the humans would come out and make Hound come inside the big yellow house.  It was only then that Norman could come down out of the tree and go about his business of scavenging the neighborhood for food and maybe visit with his friends who might also be out that night to dine.

 

Norman could see the humans walking around inside the big yellow house and see Hound curled up on a rug by the door.  It looked like Hound had gone to sleep again.  Norman breathed a sigh of relief.  Finally, dinnertime.  In no time flat he was out of the den, down the tree and making tracks straight for that nice piece of chicken on the ground that he’d been keeping an eye on for hours. Fortunately, Hound hadn’t seen it or just wasn’t interested.  He’d already gobble up two hamburgers, three hot dogs and at least a half dozen carrot sticks by Norman’s count.

 

Norman sniffed the air and looked around to be sure there was no unwanted company and settled down to enjoy his dinner. Norman was enjoying that grilled chicken leg and guarding a nice slice of watermelon when the yard lights at the big yellow house came on again and human came out with a bag of trash.  Hound bounded through the doorway right behind the human and charged across the yard

Straight toward Norman.

 

Norman ran for his life toward his tree carrying his piece of chicken in his mouth.  Hound was running tight behind him.  Half way to safety, Norman spun around and snarled a warning at Hound.  “Stop.  Don’t come any closer.”  Norman dropped the piece of chicken.  No time to pick it up.  Hound was bearing down fast.  Norman made a lunge for a tree and scrambled up the trunk and made it to a branch several feet above the ground.  He looked back to see where Hound was and looked just in time to see Oscar the owl swoop down and grab the chicken leg

In his talons and fly off with it. 

 

The owl had stopped Hound in his tracks for just a moment giving Norman a chance to move to a higher branch, but he’d lost his chicken dinner.  Norman moved still higher up the tree and wondered how owl might taste.  He’d never eaten an owl before and right now he was mad at Hound and mad at Oscar the owl too. 

 

If there was one thing Norman did not like it was being chased half-way up the hill with a hound dog nipping at your heels; scrambling up the nearest, highest tree and accidently dropping your dinner in the process.  If that wasn’t bad enough, his favorite meal had just been stolen by an owl.   Norman was a lot more than a little bit upset and who could blame him.

 

Human dropped the bag of trash beside the path and ran after Hound telling Hound to stop.  Hound was still barking and attempting to jump up the tree to reach Norman when the human grabbed Hound by the collar.  “Come, boy.  Good dog. You treed him.  Come, let’s go inside.  It is late and the raccoon is gone.”  He led Hound inside, closed the door and turned off the yard lights.  Human had left the bag of trash right where he’d dropped it. 

 

“Maybe there is chicken in that bag,” Norman thought, maybe I can still have a chicken dinner, but Norman didn’t move from where he was perched in the tree, not yet.  He waited and he watched.  He stayed on that branch until he saw the lights go out in the big yellow house and listened until all was quiet other than the night sounds of the woodlot. 

 

Norman slowly moved from the branch back down to the ground.  He started toward the bag of trash and then stopped.  Oh no, just his luck.  It seems Stanley the Skunk may have witnessed this whole scene from the sidelines and had made

it to the bag of trash ahead of Norman.  Stanley was already strewing the contents around and picking through it. 

 

Norman steered clear of Stanley and the trash bag. He made his way back toward where the humans had been eating earlier.  Maybe he’d find another piece of chicken or at least that piece of watermelon.  Norman would wait for Stanley to eat his fill and move on, uninterrupted.

 

Norman knew all to well the consequences of messing with Stanley.  The last time he had confronted Stanley it had taken him better than a week to get the scent of Stanley off him. 

 

Norman moved along the stonewall, now and then stopping to turn over a loose stone to check for grubs and bugs that might be hiding there.  A few juicy bugs or a grub or two always make a tasty appetizer for a raccoon to eat.  He made his way around the edge of the flower garden and peered under the garden bench.  What was that? Norman sniffed the air and the ground nearby.  The closer he got to that thing under the bench the sweeter the scent became.  It was a bag of something that smelled really good. 

 

Norman emptied the bag on the ground and picked up a piece of the contents.  It was soft and as light and white as a summer cloud and it was squishy.  He sniffed it and then tasted it.  Oh my, Norman thought to himself, these are so sweet and delicious.  He ate one and then two and three and four of them.  His mouth, chin and paws were sticky and covered with this white, sticky sweet treat.  Bits of grass, dirt and leaves were sticking to his hand-like paws and when he tried licking them off it all stuck to his nose and his chin.  Norman wanted a drink of water and he needed to clean his paws.  He ate one more of those white, squishy sweet bits of goodness and turned and crossed the yard to the edge of the woods and down the hill to the little brook. 

 

Norman could see his reflection in the moon lit water of the brook.  He looked so funny with all that squishy, sticky-sweet white stuff all over his face.  He took a long drink of water and then washed his face and paws and began to walk up the brook overturning a rock here and there to find a few more grubs to eat.  They were tasty but not nearly as good as that piece of chicken he had been enjoying until Hound showed up and interrupted his meal chasing him up a tree, and Oscar Owl swooped down and stole the piece of chicken he had accidentally dropped when he was halfway up the tree and angrily turned to yell at Hound.  Norman wasn’t particularly fond of Oscar right now and he liked Hound even less. 

 

Norman wandered up the brook a bit farther and then turned and slowly began making his way back toward his tree house den in the woodlot behind the big yellow house.  It would be getting light soon.

 

On his way back home he he met up with his cousin Reggie and they walked along together at the edge of the woodlot.  Norman told Reggie about the humans that live in the big yellow house and Hound and Owl and his experience earlier with them and how Stanley the skunk was in the yard scavenging for food by the time he could safely climb back down from his high perch in the tree where Hound had chased him.  It had been a close call because Hound had been right tight on his heels and then, of all the rotten luck, he had dropped that delicious piece of chicken and Owl had stolen it, “practically stole it right out of my mouth,” Norman told Reggie. 

 

Reggie suggested they go back and check for any leftovers Stanley had left behind and that is what they did. 

 

Norman and Reggie had a nice visit while they munched on watermelon rind, cucumbers, some strawberries and they each had a piece of chicken, partially gnawed on by someone, probably Stanley, but still delicious, and Norman found

a couple of sticks that had some of that sweet, sticky white stuff on them. He shared them with Reggie. Reggie thought it was delicious too.  They poked around in the trash that Stanley had spread all over the yard in search of more but if there had been any, there wasn’t now and even the bag that had been under the garden bench was now missing. 

 

Morning was just starting to stretch its light into the night by the time Norman and Reggie decided they had their fill of leftovers and nibbled the last of that squishy white sweet treat off the sticks they had found.  The evening had turned out wonderful after all and Norman was alive to tell about it. 

Reggie said he had better go home before the day grew too light.  Anyhow, they were both getting very tired after their long night of adventure and scavenging.

Norman watched Reggie wander off through the woodlot and then climbed the tree to his den way up high above the ground.  He watched the sun rise and then curled up in his den to sleep.   When evening came again, he would meet Reggie and share another night of scavenging together.  At least that was their plan if Owl didn’t hoot and Hound didn’t howl and they can stay ahead of Stanley the skunk. 

Norman fell asleep dreaming sweet and happy dreams.