To obtain a satisfactory sight of the raccoon, we must set out into the
forest by torchlight, accompanied by dogs, with fowling-piece in hand.
As he remains during the day in some hollow tree, it is rarely we can
get a good view of him. Even if by chance found on the ground, he
ascends the tree so rapidly, that he is stowed away before our rifle can
reach the shoulder. The well-trained dog, however, quickly finds him
when roving about the woods at night.
Let us accompany Audubon on a 'coon hunt. Our native companions have
gone before with the dogs, who are baying at the raccoon in an open part
of the forest. On our coming up, a singular scene presents itself to
us. The flare of our torch seems to distress him. His coat is ruffled,
and his rounded tail seems thrice its ordinary size. His eyes shine
like emeralds. With foaming jaws he watches the dogs, ready to seize by
the snout each who comes within reach. His guttural growlings, instead
of intimidating his assailants, excite them the more. He seizes one,
however, by the lip. It is a dangerous proceeding, for, while thus far
victorious, the other curs attack him in flank and rear, while their
companion yells pitifully. The raccoon will not let go, but the other
dogs, seizing him fast, worry him to death. Yet to the last he holds
tightly the dog's lip.
While we stand gazing at the poor animal, all around is, by the flare of
the torch, rendered trebly dark and dismal. It is a scene for a skilful
painter.
The raccoon is about the same size as a small fox, and though somewhat
like it, has also rather an ursine appearance. He has a tufted tail
marked with black and white bands. The head tapers somewhat like that
of the fox, but the ears are short and slightly rounded, the forehead
broad, and the nose sharp. The fore-legs being shorter than the hinder,
when he stands the tail end of his body is lifted higher than the front,
and consequently his back appears curved. He walks like the dog,
putting the tips of his toes to the ground; but when he stops he lays
his feet flat.
He receives no mercy from the farmers, for he is of a sanguinary and
savage disposition, and commits great havoc among domestic as well as
wild birds, always destroying far more than he requires; merely eating
off their heads, or lapping up the blood which flows from their wounds.
He commits occasionally ravages in sugar-cane or Indian-corn
plantations; and, climbing with ease, catches birds, and devours their
eggs. He resembles the squirrel in his movements; and, like that
animal, when eating, sits on his hind-legs, and uses his fore-feet to
carry his food to his mouth. A story is told of a young tame raccoon
let loose in a poultry-yard, when, his natural disposition overcoming
his civilised manners, he sprang on a cock strutting in a dignified
fashion among the hens, and fixed himself on its back. The bird,
surprised at so unusual an attack, began scampering round the yard, the
hens scattering far and wide in the utmost confusion. Still the little
animal kept his seat, till he managed to get hold of the unfortunate
cock's head in his jaws, and before the bird could be rescued, had
crunched it up--still keeping his seat, in spite of the dying struggles
of his victim; and probably, had he not been bagged, would have treated
all the feathered inhabitants of the yard in the same fashion. When out
hunting on his own account, he often hides himself among the long reeds
on the bank of a lake or stream, and pouncing out on the wild ducks as
they swim incautiously by, treats them as he does the domestic fowls on
shore.
He partakes considerably of the cunning of the fox, yet, like that
animal, is frequently outwitted. A raccoon after a long chase managed
to reach a tree, which he quickly climbed, with the aid of his claws,
snugly ensconcing himself in the deserted nest of a crow. In vain the
hunters sought for him, till his long, annulated tail, which he had
forgotten to coil up within the nest, was seen pendent below it; and the
poor raccoon was quickly brought to the ground by a rifle ball.
He has gained the name of the lotor, or the washer, in consequence of
his habit of plunging his dry food into water before eating it. He also
drinks a large quantity of water. When moistening his food, he grasps
it with both his fore-paws, moving it violently backwards and forwards,
as a person does washing clothes in a stream. The German naturalists
call him the washing-bear. Though savage and bloodthirsty in his wild
state, he is frequently tamed; but he is somewhat capricious in temper,
and not easily reconciled when offended. It is curious that he should,
when domesticated, change his usual custom of sleeping in the daytime
and wandering about at night; but this he does, remaining quiet all
night, and making his appearance among the inmates of the house as soon
as the sun sheds its light abroad. Though in his wild state a fit
member for a temperance society, he will when in captivity, as if to
recompense himself for his hard lot, drink fermented liquors of all
sorts--the stronger and sweeter the better. An old writer on American
animals says, in reference to this propensity, that if taken young it is
easily made tame, but "is the drunkenest creature alive, if he can get
any liquor that is sweet and strong." The same writer states that the
cunning raccoon often catches crabs by inserting one of his feet into
their holes, and dragging them out as soon as they seize hold of it.