Today was a day unlike any other. What started out as a -8 degree day and -15 to -20 with wind chill turned out to be another day where it wasn't the weather that chilled me to my soul, but the wildlife who were desperately trying to survive it.
My friend Donny, the real Mayor, stopped by to see how things were going, and if the eagles were nesting yet. I told him I was looking for that golden eagles nest. I thought it may be over in the west somewhere back a mile or so.
Donny had a friend with him, and he said he had scouted the entire west bluff while looking for mushrooms each spring, but has never found a eagle nest over there. So I'm wondering where that golden eagle flies in from, and where he heads to.
I went out to find that answer today. I took a left on a road that I felt "led" to take. I had never taken that one, it's not that out of the way, but I just have never gone that way. I drove on looking for an access road an old stage coach road, any hint of a road--any stretch behind the bluffs, but found none, so I turned and backtracked.
As I drove along, I casually glanced to my right looking at the carved and dug out bluff created in all the shades of autumn. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw a brown, furry animal with his back turned towards me. I backed up and pulled over on the narrow two lane road expecting to see a stray farm cat, half-frozen turn to me.
I remembered, "Olga" the cat I found a couple years ago on the highway coming home. It was teetering when I found her, so weak that the minus 40 degree weather would have finished her off by that night had I not come along.
"Olga" was adopted by my employee Mary, and her named changed to "Sophie." She is living a wonderful life now, free of cars and trucks dodging her on the highway, a home full of love and reward.
I was watching the animal closely, and the slow, shaky movements told me that it was barely alive. It was the size of a full grown tom cat. I didn't expect to see a raccoon's face as the head turned towards me.
I felt as if I had been dealt a death card to deal out. I looked up at the Heaven's shaking my head knowing why I had that "twinge" to take this new road. It was so I would find this animal.
I talked to the raccoon calmly and he was not scared in my presence.
Just last night, Dave put in this Angel video I had bought in 1994, guess I have been busy, because this was the first chance I had to watch it. I was drifting off to sleep last night when I felt prompted to stay awake a moment. I listened, but with eyes too heavy to stay awake much longer, but there was this older lady who started talking about taking her cat in to her veterinarian be put to sleep.
She told the veterinarian just to come tell her when he was finished. She couldn't be a part of her beloved cats departure. She said she was looking out a window and saw an angel rising up
cuddling something in its arms and when the angel turned to her it had a cats face. She said, "I believe all creatures have their own angels."
Then I fell asleep.
I believe out of all the videos Dave could have put in, that God had some say in this fourteen year old video to be played last night. I think I needed to see it so I would be prepared for the events that would take place today.
Back to today. I got out of my truck holding my blaze orange pull over, and wearing my winter gloves. I was going to wrap the coon up and take him somewhere. . . but where? No veterinarians will take wildlife in and even if I drove him to area Headquarter's there might not be anyone in the office.
I thought about Kraig, my sheriff friend in that county. I'd call him, he'd know what to do.
He always knows the answers. He always helps me.
I went back to my truck and sat a moment. I couldn't call Kraig. I knew he would have to shoot him. I had too choose for this animal whether to let him suffer longer, or die a noble death. I didn't feel that was my card to have to give out. I didn't draw it, I only turned left on a road I hadn't travelled. I was so upset all I could do was cry over this poor little raccoon.
How much worse could this poor guy have it? He had icicles hanging off his cheeks, off his nose, and his eyes were sunk in, and he was severely dehydrated. He looked at me with a soul-stirring sadness in his eyes that spoke defeat. He knew he couldn't defend himself, he couldn't move on, he barely moved at all and like Kraig later said, "Lisa, he knew his journey was over." The -40's weather, the endless snow and winds, maybe he went in healthy to a den and came out diseased. All this had been too much on him and this was the end of his life.
It took me almost forty minutes to get the courage to drive up the road and try and get a signal on a cell phone I barely ever carry, but happened to have with me today. Then I called Kraig.
It rang three times, then four, and I was sure I'd just get voicemail and I would have tried to help the raccoon and ---"Hello."
"Hi Kraig." I hesitated. I talked a moment, leading up to my drive on the county road, still not sure if I wanted to tell him. I could hang up, and just forget the whole thing. The raccoon could die a natural death, not my card anymore, the end.
But I didn't. That deep-gut feeling just burst up and I told him about the coon. He said, "Lisa he probably has distemper. The coons den up with others and he'll spread it to them."
"What can you do for him?" I closed my eyes because I already knew what would follow.
"You know we'll have to shoot him."
"I know." I tried holding the tears in. I was glad he couldn't see me crying.
I hesitantly gave him directions to his location. He said he knew the area, if he couldn't come he would send someone.
I thanked him but I regretted that entire drive back to the raccoon. I pulled over again. I sat with him. I wanted to just go up and hold him. I had to go through rabies shots a couple years ago, so I'm good the rest of my life, except for a booster, if I get bit again. I just dreaded the thought of having to have another animal bite lanced open daily until it healed from the inside out.
I was willing to risk that if it meant this raccoon could know that his pain and anguish was almost over, and I would have held him if only for a moment but when I hiked up the little incline he sounded more distressed, growling--or what Kraig later said was just his heavy breathing.
I told the raccoon I called his death, and I didn't want to do that. I told him, "Go and save yourself, but you have to move now because they are coming to shoot you." I know somehow he understood me, either in my quivering voice, or the sight of my teary-eyes, because just then that old coon turned and faced me. He tried to stand up and he raised his left paw up, motioning a wave, and then it fell limp against his side, and I just cried.
Then he laid down in the loose freshly dug sand from the bluff. He pushed his feet back out over the edge of the bluff right in front of me. He moved his human-like feet back and forth in front of me, and he laid down as if to die. It ripped me up inside and I had to step back. I went back to my truck. I sat with him another twenty minutes. His coat camouflaged him so well that you couldn't tell where the bluff started or where the raccoon . . . ended. I thought for a moment Kraig might not see him at all. He wouldn't miss my snowy tire tracks on the highway.
I didn't want to be there when he died. I was like that lady who took her cat into that veterinarians office, I couldn't watch his departure. I just wanted to look out the window, a wild
landscape of hope.
I prayed for the little raccoon, and I named him, "Noble" for that is the most highest name I could give a raccoon who suffered much, and stood up facing his death card, as an honor.
I drove away.
Then I hiked out to Daedee and Dancer's nest and I realized I was probably five miles exactly west of him. I didn't see an angel with a raccoons face ascending, or holding a raccoon named Noble, but as I hiked towards the eagle nest area and stared beyond it, across the field, the river, the west bluffs, taking in the entire west horizon: it never looked brighter, softer, or felt more calming that it did today.
I didn't hear the gunshot, but I knew that Noble had moved on.
I still cried.
I sat for awhile until the pain had left me with the peace of knowing I did what I knew to do. I passed on the information to the proper authorities, and left it in their hands--from there on it was God's duty to work through them. I was the dealer today and I hope I don't get that card again for a long time.
I drove on and found an eaglet, challenging Dick, the Nest 6 male. They flew back and forth across the open sky and above the bluffs where there are some farms. Then unexpectedly, they flew up and above an American Flag that someone had put up on top of the bluff. Funny, I had never seen that flag before. I thought that was really symbolic to see the young eaglet challenging the parent eagle; both flying together, above the waving red, white and blue flag.
Then I thought of a line from a song Toby Keith sings, ". . . Freedom don't come free." It didn't for Noble, and it hasn't for me, and it probably won't for you either.
I arrived at Nest 6 to find both eagles now on their nest. Suddenly, that eaglet returned, and he flew down barreling in trying to land on the nest with his parents. Both Dick and Linda, the Nest 6 eagles, pitched vocalizations that screamed, "Go away!"
Three times now, on two different nests I've seen an eaglet return and the parents vocalize and chase their eaglets out. I have heard and read that some parents will kill their eaglet. The look on those eaglets faces is like watching your own child come to the door and cry, "I am hungry." Then slam the door in their face.
The eaglet left. Now I am almost 100% sure, that Nest 6 reared an eaglet last year, unknown to anyone.
The best news today was when I looked to the trumpeter swan pond I found twenty canada geese huddled up on the ice next to and between two familiar looking white lumps with clunky, black webbed feet.
The swans were back. They didn't leave for good, but only for the night. I was so thankful for another day with them. I wondered if I would have my opportunity to finish their documentary with a nest and little ones? Only God knows that though.
Further up the road I found my peripheral vision has far exceeded what is right in front of me. There I was again pulling over to photograph a little cottontail wedged in a hole in the base of a bluff.
I shot a half dozen pictures and moved on. I saw few eagles flying around but I guess my thoughts were so tied around my heart and that raccoon I missed most of what God had planned for me today.
As I was leaving I pulled over to watch Dancer on his nest staring south. Maybe Daedee was out that way.
On my drive home I called Kraig to see if he found the raccoon. He had. He said that raccoon was seriously sick. He said his tail was almost off, that they get a bacterial infection that causes it to fall off.
Thinking about it, I didn't even remember seeing his tail. I guess I never got beyond the icicles on his nose, and around his mouth, or his dying eyes that stared into me. I felt like he could read my thoughts. I believe animals hear our thoughts and see our intentions. I kept saying over and over I'm not your friend today, I am your foe.
Instead, he ignored my thoughts. He sighed his last vocals, or as Kraig said, his heavy breathing, but to me it sounded like a low growl, his last attempt to defend himself, and he loudly said, " this is checkmate."
We have another winter storm moving in tonight with 100% chance of snow. 3-5 inches, and temperatures expected to be minus 20 tomorrow.
I'm looking forward to Day 35.
I'll see you on the journey--
Lisa
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