I’m staying with friends in Seattle while we get situated in our new home — which really means we have yet to find a home. The two of us and our kitty are tucked under acrylic-mink blankets in a daylight basement we call our “spa” — owing to a mock rain showerhead and feather bed.

I have some days to watch the plums ripen in the Indian summer, capture a few shots of a red dragonfly returning to his post in the afternoon to catch winged bugs, see the silver wash of daylight over Puget Sound, and catch just a hint of a Bald Eagle flying over suburbia as I make my way to my morning joe. This is my view out the living room window:

Puget Sound View - ©ingridtaylar

On a recent morning, nursing my perfect cup of coffee as brewed by my perfect host of a friend, I heard a sound from the kitchen. A shout, actually.

“Oh no, they’re in the plum tree!”

The plums are sweet and organic. The humans here love them. But so do “they.”

This is “them”:

Caught in the Act - ©ingridtaylar

I said, “hey thanks for the photo op of the raccoon.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome. Now help me get them out of the tree.”

Not before I snapped a few more shots of the daylight-eluding raccoons. I often see them just after good light has receded. But, contrary to some notions, raccoons do forage in the daytime, especially mothers trying to feed their young. This mom was bold enough to afford me a few extra shots on my compact flash card. It’s a misnomer I often hear, that daylight raccoons are rabid raccoons. Not true. Raccoons in daytime combined with rabid-like behavior is another thing entirely.

My friends love their once-a-year plum bloom. They’re compassionate to a fault and included these raccoons in their circle of kindness. They let a mama and her three babies den in an old covered boat in the backyard, a boat that now needs a remodel owing to bad raccoon housekeeping.

The photo above shows mama teaching her babes to climb plum trees and eat just half the fruit before tossing it on the ground. In fairness, they were foraging the dropped plums, too. But the temptation, as they say, of low-lying and fresh fruit was too much for her.

My friends overlook the mess in the boat as a gesture toward human-wildlife relations. The sweet plums are another. Everyone’s got a line. This is theirs.

Organic Plums - ©ingridtaylar

My friend pulled out her How to be Nice but Still Discourage Critters¹ manual and flipped to raccoons — raccoons and fruit trees. There was a diagram of a metal baffle or metal wrap, the kind you see around LA to keep rats from nesting in the Beverly Hills palms.

She looked up and said, “you’d let the raccoons eat the plums, wouldn’t you, Ingrid?”

What can I say? She’s on to me. But . . . they’re not my plums. Huge distinction. So, we brainstormed on raccoon deterrents. Ultimately, we decided we didn’t want to set foot in Cabela’s and contribute to the coyote urine industry. So, we opted for the flashing solution.

Here’s the outcome, courtesy of her engineering husband:

Flashing - ©ingridtaylar

We’ve been checking the tree everyday but the raccoons seem to be baffled by the baffle.

I did, however, catch the family in the way-back willow tree, where mama was teaching her young ones to navigate flimsy branches and forage for snails. It’s a peaceful, Northwest coexistence — for now.

Raccoon Mother & Babies - ©ingridtaylar

Raccoon Babies - ©ingridtaylar

Raccoon Babies Climbing Tree - ©ingridtaylar

Mama Raccoon Chilling - ©ingridtaylar

Raccoon Trio - ©ingridtaylar

¹ The book: Outwitting Critters by Bill Adler: A Humane Guide for Confronting Devious Animals and Winning

Tagged as: humane wildlife solutions, raccoons, Wildlife

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