Carter's best hat
There came a day near the end of May when I grabbed up my raccoon kits—Earnest, Faith, and Frank—and set off to make a memory. They fit easily into my small backpack, and rode there with their faces out and their eyes big.
All were in robust health, with fat tummies and glossy fur. They had come such a long way in only two weeks. So far, in fact, that they had no more need for me. It was time to take them back to Wildcare, the rehab sanctuary, where they would be joined by another litter to make up their “clan.” In the large outside cages with pools, stumps, and makeshift dens, this clan would have their time of “wilding up.”
Then, Susan Davis would select the place for their release—somewhere with woods, water, and privacy. Together, the little clan would explore the glory of a wild life, as they were born to.
But not yet. Not before I took them off in search of one last, grand memory. Spring had done her job of filling in the bare winter canopy. Now the forest out my back door had returned to the mysterious, compelling world of deep, deep shade and leaf-bottomed, meandering streams. Read the rest of this entry »