He arrives fairly punctually at five in the late afternoon every day. Usually Irving anticipates him and makes certain there's lots on the porch floor for him to choose from. On the rare occasion if he forgets

to put out some biscuits alongside the peanuts, as soon as Irving spots Fatty Rascoon on the porch spooning up peanuts in his clever little hands, he opens the front door to the porch and offers some biscuits. Or, if there's leftover French toast or pancakes cut up, that will do.

 

If we don't notice, he'll sit waiting expectantly on the porch. How does he know it's 5:00 pm and time for him to mosey over from the ravine? Hunger pangs? Something triggers him to hurry over in broad daylight to amble up from the ravine and then to go through someone's backyard, cross the street and make his way up to our house. The thought of special treats is his navigator, what's his clock?

 

 

But he's only an animal, after all. Animals don't think, they don't perceive and draw conclusions. Only humans do. That's why, evidently, he will turn his attention to the glass-front door and try to gain our attention. He knows, clever little creature, that it isn't coincidental that his arrival will result in peanuts/biscuits mysteriously appearing. If the provisions are due to nature carelessly scattering them on our porch for his pleasure, why doesn't nature do the same thing in the ravine and spare him the trip?

 

 

He's made the connection. Just as Jackie and Jillie, when six o'clock ticks around, come and visit me, their eyes pleading for dinner. If that doesn't work, a few short, quick barks will.  Fatty Rascoon knows Irving puts out his treats. When Irving opens the door, Fatty edges back just slightly, watches as his treats are deposited and moves quickly back into place to claim them as Irving shuts the door.

 

 

We rarely see him and his pals while we're out in the ravine. At one time, many years ago, we would often come across Fatty, or one of his predecessors. We would also often enough see pheasant and grouse and foxes. The pheasant and grouse are gone, and it's a rare occasion when a fox is seen. The urban environment is inexorably forcing out the wildlife, closing off corridors for their passage, changing and taking over their habitat.

 

 

Now, we visit them frequently, and they return the compliment. We're comfortable in their terrain, and they find it awkward and potentially dangerous in ours. No fear that housing will be installed in the ravine. The geology just doesn't lend itself to construction. Too much nature to tame. Which is just as well, since city dwellers, though they don't quite know it, need the opportunity to get closer to nature on a regular basis. It enhances our lives to do so, creates serenity and pleasure, gives us leisure opportunities, refreshes our outlook on life.

 

All to the detriment of the wildlife that inhabit the forest and make themselves scarce when humans are around. Animals that find themselves squeezed out of their natural surroundings. Because nature created species with different needs and values in opposition to one another. And the alpha creation feels entitled to its entitlements.