On the way out of town this morning, headed to the movies with Joshua, as I drove past the town hall, I saw the body of a baby raccoon laying near the white line at the side of the road. Anybody who knows me, knows I stopped just to be sure.
The poor little thing couldn’t have been more than 5 weeks old, give or take. For sure he’d been there awhile. I could tell he’d been laying there through last night’s rain storm: the fur was wet and matted, and the body was outline and crusted with “road sand”, there was no mother raccoon looking for him, no raccoon siblings milling about in confusion.
I didn’t want to leave him there so close to the road, I didn’t want to have to drive past his spattered, splattered, scattered remains every day, so I wanted to move the body to the grass, and to gauge how stiffened the remains were, I nudged him with the toe of my sneaker.
The poor dead little raccoon was very much not dead. He started shaking, squirming weakly, and weakly trilling out his baby raccoon distress call. (For my part, I was on my phone in a second, sending out my own distress call to my sister Mare, letting her know what was going on and that I was on my way to her RIGHT NOW.)
There was no blood, no obvious broken bones, no subluxed eyes, no signs of paralysis, so I picked the baby up by the scruff, got back into the car with him in my lap and headed for Mare, apologizing to Joshua for having to miss the movie (Cars 2, we’ll try again next Saturday)
We’d no sooner got to Mare than she had sand washed out of the baby raccoon’s wrapped him in a towel to keep him warm, and produced a bottle of baby formula and an eye dropper to feed him. Not too long after that, he was asleep in the towel, in Mare’s arms, snoring.
Monday he goes to the SPCA. For now, he seems quite happy.