Those plans changed the blink of a raccoon’s eye.
Husband (calling me from his cell phone): Lisa, I’m going to be late coming home from my run.
Husband: …you see there’s this raccoon in front of me on the running trail….
And I’m thinking “...and he’s foaming at the mouth…”!
Husband: …and he has a fishing lure stuck in his leg. He limped out into the middle of the trail from the woods. He’s just sitting there like he knows a human will eventually come along and help him. I can’t just leave him.
Not the raccoon in question but a realistic representation of an actual raccoon.
It took forever to get hold of the right people and then convince them to send someone out here. When I finally get hold of Wildlife Control, the lady, well, more like girl – actually, more like intern on her first day with preprinted answers on a sheet of paper in front of her asks me if I can bring the raccoon in to them.
She says, “Well, first you need a sheet… and get a broom or whatever and try to scoop it up into a box or something…”
…and all I’m thinking is Lady I’m a runner on a park path. The only thing I have with me is a cell phone! Correct me if I’m wrong, but I remember from school field trips involving park rangers that I’m not supposed to touch or move an injured wild animal because it might get scared and bite my face off. So after years and years and years of being told not to approach an injured animal and to call a wildlife professional, I now have a wildlife professional telling me, “Aw nah. It’s cool, just pick it on up and bring it on in! Biting? Rabies? Pea-Shaw! Stop overacting! You’ll be fine. (Budget cuts you know.)”
It took me awhile to convince Park Intern Girl to send someone here who can help Rocky Raccoon.
Me: Rocky Raccoon?
Husband: In between transfers some ladies walked past me on the trail and said “Oh yeah, we saw that raccoon with a lure in his leg here yesterday.” Which made me mad because I thought,” It was so nice yesterday that the park had to be full of people who noticed this injured raccoon and no one tried to call for help?! No wonder he’s limping around half dazed out of his skull. He must have lost a lot of blood.” I was determined to stay on the phone and get the poor little guy some help.
So after talking to 4 or 5 different places and people before I got to Park Intern Girl it was a lot easier to start calling him Rocky Raccoon than Raccoon-With-a-Fishing-Lure-Stuck-in-His- Leg-for-Over-24-Hours-While-Stupid-Humans-Saw-Him-and-Did-Absolutely-Nothing-to-Help-Him. I would have called him Ranger Rick but I figure the National Wildlife Federation had that one trademarked.
Me: Good Call. So what happened?
Husband: Eventually they told me that they’d send an Ohio Wildlife Service ranger out with a truck and a proper cage. Right now Rocky Raccoon/Not-Trademarked-Ranger-Rick decided move and is hanging out under a tree. I have to stay here to show the ranger where the Rocky is before I can even start my run, OK?
What kind of person would I be if I said no? That’s right a big, mean, rotten person that’s what.
Me: Of course. Do whatever you need to do. Take as long as you need.
That’s how we ended up skipping the big Earth Day festival and celebrated on a much smaller level.
PS: I called the Ohio Wildlife Service Monday to check on Rocky. He’s fine and will be released after his leg heals. He also said he prefers to be called Bubba because there are too many raccoons named Rocky in his part of the forest.
This post is part of the Green Mom's Carnival where our carnival topic is fittingly - Earth Day.