Two nights ago, around nine o’clock, I leaned over the retaining wall at Riverside Park to look for raccoons, and found a raccoon looking right back at me. It was perched, as it were, on the broad stone ledge outside its den. We stared at each other, each apparently curious what the other might do. Neither one of us did much of anything.
Just looking.
This raccoon and its family members have an ideal den spot with a broad ledge outside that makes it easy for them to loll and relax at the mouth of the hole.
I’m looking at you.
When a man and two off-leash dogs came into view on the path below, the raccoon turned its attention away from me to watch the newcomers.
The man was talking on his cell phone and kicking a ball for his rambunctious long-legged black mutt to chase, while a slow, imperturbable pug brought up the rear. Neither man nor dogs noticed the raccoon high above their heads, watching their every move. Nor did they notice this human, even higher above their heads, also watching every move.
As it watched, the raccoon curled partway into its hole.
We left it there, the dog and I, and continued our walk along the Riverside Drive promenade. On our way back, I again leaned over the wall.
But the raccoon was gone.
It had probably ducked back into its den. In my admittedly limited and unscientific observations, the Riverside raccoons are slow to actually leave the den for their evening forays into the park. They tend to hang out on the ledge for quite some time, singly or in twos, threes or even fours. They look around and sniff the air, occasionally ducking back into the den as if suddenly remembering they’d left the stove on. Sometimes, when the weather is pleasant, a raccoon will groom itself or a mother will groom a kit, although I haven’t seen any grooming behaviors yet this season. I can’t even say how many raccoons are living in the den this year. Eventually, though, one or another of the raccoons will leave the ledge and start making its way north along the wall. Only rarely do I see one heading south from the den, probably because the grand stone staircase quickly breaks up the wall, so that the raccoon would have to come down to the ground right at a spot that is well traveled by humans and dogs.
Here is the view from just above the den of Riverside Park, the Hudson River and New Jersey.
Not bad. You might linger at the mouth of your den, too, if you had this view to look at.
Last night at dusk, the great retaining wall of Riverside Park was crawling with raccoons.
A mother raccoon (right) and her babies on the retaining wall in NYC’s Riverside Park.
This is the same den I’ve been watching for years now. In 2009 or 2010, before the raccoon rabies epidemic hit, I once saw six raccoons emerge from this den, like clowns from a clown car. Last night, seven racoons climbed the wall. Seven! Back in early April, I watched a mother raccoon carry a baby along the wall, clearly looking to move it into a new den. My guess would be that this is the same mother with her litter now old enough to be exploring the world under her supervision.
A small crowd had gathered to watch and photograph the raccoons.
“Excuse me, what kind of animals are those?”
Usually, the raccoons on the wall go unnoticed. But the sheer number of animals moving on the wall attracted attention. As they made their way along the stones, they popped in and out of various hidey-holes. Personality differences among the raccoons seemed evident. One, in particular, seemed reluctant to leave the safety of the den, peeping out and retreating several times even as the others had already moved out along the wall.
Some observers reported that in addition to the mother and babies, there was a “medium-sized” raccoon. They wondered if they were looking at a mother and father with a litter. This is highly unlikely, as male racoons don’t stay around after mating to help raise the young. In fact, adult males will often harm young raccoons. It’s more likely that the medium-sized raccoon is a juvenile from last year’s litter that is still living with the mother. I’ve watched a mother care for, and wash, her slightly older babies here in August 2011.
Wall walker.
If this is indeed the case, then there may be five babies, which fits the average raccoon litter size of 2-5 kits.
The little kittenish fellow in the picture below is following after its mother, but still uncertain of its footing on the wall. Apologies for the blurry, grainy photos, but it was quite dark. I’ve enhanced most of these photos to make the images clearer.
Baby raccoon trails mother back to den.
Below, two babies greet their mother as she returns to the den.
Here a raccoon peeps out of a hole a little north of the main den. Could this be the same hole where I heard growling that night in April when the mother ducked inside with the baby in her mouth? Or is this another baby? Or another juvenile? Size is difficult to estimate from a distance, so … hard to say. In any event, this individual stayed put while the others were on the move.
Here is a video of the mother waiting with two babies while a third makes its way along the wall to join them.
For much more on the raccoons of NYC, visit Out Walking the Dog’s Raccoon Archives.
Last night I saw something I’d never seen before: a mother raccoon carrying her tiny baby in her mouth.
The photos, sadly, are blurry. My camera had run out of battery, so I had only my iPhone, which doesn’t do well in low light.
I entered the park just as the sun was setting over the Hudson River.
I scanned the great retaining wall for raccoons.
The setting sun illuminated the entrance to a den, but no animals were visible.
We walked south for a while, then returned to take another look at the wall. A short distance from the primary den, a raccoon was moving on the wall, carrying something in its mouth. My first thought, oddly, perhaps, was that it was carrying some kind of prey. But no, this was a baby raccoon, dangling from the mother’s mouth twenty feet above the ground.
The mother carried it gingerly along the wall. At last, she ducked into a hole and disappeared. Loud, deep growling sounds came from the wall. Clearly the hole was occupied. It sounded like pigs grunting. I worried that the baby might be injured by the surly host.
The dog, tied up a short distance away, was fascinated by the rather alarming sounds.
After some time, the mother emerged, the baby still dangling from her mouth, and continued heading north along the wall. It’s not easy to walk on that wall, even without a baby in your mouth. She went almost all the way to the top.
I could see the head of a pedestrian who strolled along the uppermost promenade, unaware of of the raccoons just a few feet below. Then the mother carefully made her way down the great wall until she reached the ground. Skirting the base of the wall, she continued north on all fours, moving much faster than she could on the vertical surface of the wall.
I left the mother and her baby to their night’s journey. I am guessing that, for whatever reason, she was seeking out a new den, or perhaps, a second den. I hope she found what she was looking for. If there were other babies to be moved, I hope she managed to go back and get them all safely settled. No matter how much wildlife behavior we are lucky enough to observe, there is so much more that goes on unobserved. Mystery remains, even deepens, and every observation raises new questions that keep me coming back to the park, and back to the animals.
I believe this is the mother raccoon, seen here ten days ago.
Good luck, mama.
For much more on New York City’s raccoons, see the raccoon archives.
There are a couple of reasons I don’t see raccoons in winter as often as the rest of the year. The first reason is my schedule. Dusk comes so early I’m rarely in the park at the right time to see these nocturnal creatures emerge from their den in the retaining wall. The second reason is that raccoons tend to be less active in the coldest months and, during the coldest days, may stay curled up in the den rather than venturing out to feed and explore.
By mid-March, days are longer and daylight savings time means that dusk comes well after 7 PM. I’m happy to report I’m seeing raccoons again. (Please forgive some blurry photos – it was pretty dark, and I’ve had to enhance the images to make the raccoon clearly visible.)
On Sunday night, a solitary raccoon lumbered along the wall. I was struck by the pale, silvery color of its front legs and paws.
It seemed to be moving rather more slowly and clumsily than usual.
But it eventually made its way to its destination.
And disappeared into a hole. Look to the right of the large hole to see the tail.
Based on sightings from past years, there are certainly other raccoons in the wall. Before Manhattan’s raccoon rabies epidemic of 2009-2010, I once saw five or six raccoons emerge from a single hole in the wall. In recent years, I’ve seen no more than three. And this winter, I’ve seen only one at a time.
I hadn’t seen the raccoons that live in the Riverside Park retaining wall for some time.
Nice view.
I believe their numbers were cut down during the great raccoon rabies epidemic of 2010. I once saw as many as six raccoons come out of this hole, like clowns from a clown car. But lately, I’ve seen only two.
Two waschbären, or wash bears, as the Germans call raccoons. (from my archives)
And for the past few weeks, I haven’t seen any.
The raccoon den in February 2011 after a snowstorm.
Watching raccoons in winter is a bit trickier than in spring or summer. In wintry weather, raccoons may curl up in their dens for days at a stretch, sleeping away the cold. But in a bizarrely mild winter like the current one, the reason I haven’t seen them is more likely due to the simple fact that I don’t walk regularly in the park after dark.
Raccoons, even in New York City, are primarily nocturnal creatures, emerging as the sun sets to start their day. In summer, when light lingers well after nine pm, they are easy to spot on a leisurely evening dog walk.
Riverside Park sunset over Hudson River
But in February, night closes in on the city before dinner, let alone before the evening walk.
Sparkling New Jersey
And though I love the park at night, caution has been etched into my city soul by growing up and living in Manhattan throughout the 60s, 70s and 80s. I try to be reasonably cautious, limiting my night walks in the park which, in turn, limits my opportunities for raccoon sightings and other strange night visions.
A dog walks in the night park. (Its owner was not far behind.)
But after not seeing the raccoons for a while, I started to wonder: Are they healthy? Are they even there? So a couple of weeks ago, the dog and I went into the park shortly after dusk on several mild days to seek them. And there they were, looking as healthy as ever. (I’ve enhanced the photos, as most were too dark to see.)
One raccoon was already a little distance north on the wall,
Wall walker
while the other seemed to be backing out of the den.
Backing out the front door
It turned around and took in the view. After watching for a while longer, we left.
Who's watching whom?
But wait. It was only later when I looked at my photos that I realized, a la David Hemming in Antonioni’s Blow-up, that there was a third pair of eyes, glowing in the darkness of the den.
Mystery glow.
Let’s enhance that photo, and see who’s there.
Aha. Revelation.
So it appears that at least three raccoons are living in the den this winter.
We’ll have to wait and see what spring brings.
Check out the archives for lots more on NYC raccoons!
One evening earlier this week, Esau and I strolled over to Riverside Park. The sun was already going down, and I thought with longing of those 15 hour days of June when daylight stretches into our nights. We’re down to 13-hour days now on our annual march to the puny gray 9-hour slivers that pass for winter days. I know, I know. The end of August is a little premature for the onset of my yearly Terror of the Shrinking Days. I’ll stave it off as long as I can. There will be plenty of time for obsessing over darkness come December.
The late summer sunset over the Hudson was a subtle beauty.
And the two raccoons that live high in the great retaining wall came out to enjoy it.
For a while, their fur was lit by the sun
as was the retaining wall itself
Raccoons begin their day as the sun goes down. Evening is morning for these two, who greeted the night with a little personal grooming
followed by some rather extensive inter-personal grooming
The Washer vigorously attacked the eyes, ears and neck of the Washed
which led to squirming on the part of the Washed and grabbing on the part of the Washer.
The Washer eventually interrupted the bath to perform some pretty serious self-scratching (most wild animals and birds host mites, fleas and other itch-inducing parasites), while the Washed looked on
The noise of a boisterous softball team traipsing up the otherwise quiet path set the raccoons on alert
and when a teenager, suddenly noticing the raccoons, made half-playful aggressive moves in their direction, they ducked swiftly inside their hole.
They peeped out again as soon as the team passed. But by then, the light was fading and patient Esau still awaited his walk. We ambled on, he and I, leaving the raccoons to their mysterious night business as the dusk slowly fell around us all.
No animals are visible on today’s late afternoon dog walk in Riverside Park on the eve of Hurricane Irene’s arrival. Well, actually many animals are out, but only two species: humans and canines. No wildlife. Not a single bird or squirrel. Even the cicadas are silent, and the animal world seems to be tucked out of sight, quietly waiting, while over on Broadway, the humans scurry about emptying the local hardware stores of batteries and flashlights.
The animals are still there, of course, curled into nests, dens and dreys just yards away from us walkers. They know how to disappear. They do it all the time. On Friday, a raccoon performed a vanishing act.
First, a bit of wall-walking …
Then, a balancing act …
And, ladies and gentlemen: watch closely. Now you see me …
Now …
… you don’t!
And … hoopla! I’m back!
Here’s hoping all the animals find safe haven and come through the storm safely.
Remember NYC’s great raccoon rabies outbreak of 2010?
Is it safe out there?
It began in the summer of 2009 with two rabid raccoons in northern Manhattan.
Riverside Park Raccoons
Several months passed and all seemed quiet on the epidemiological front.
And then, boom! ten rabid raccoons were reported in December 2009, all of them in or near Central Park.
Rabies is a highly contagious and virtually always fatal viral disease of the brain and central nervous system. It is transmitted through the saliva of an infected and symptomatic animal, usually by a bite. Descriptions of rabies reach back thousands of years into the ancient world. According A Rabies-Free World, Aristotle wrote that “dogs suffer from the madness. This causes them to become very irritable and all animals they bite become diseased.” Irritable? That seems like an almost pathologically understated description of symptoms that include “slight or partial paralysis, cerebral dysfunction, anxiety, insomnia, confusion, agitation, abnormal behavior, paranoia, terror, hallucinations, progressing to delirium.” Let’s just say it’s a bad disease.
Rabies Advisory signs appeared in the parks.
By late fall 2009, rabies advisory signs had appeared in Central, Riverside and Morningside Parks, showing a rather cute drawing of a raccoon head with large letters proclaiming: Leave Wildlife Alone.
No one seemed to know how many raccoons lived in the city parks, but for months, the rabies cases kept on coming. (Visit Out Walking the Dog’s archives to read earlier posts on the rabies epidemic. )
Between January 2010 and the middle of September, a staggering 123 cases of rabies were confirmed.
I wondered how the city would ever regain control of such a virulent disease in a park where every inch of space is shared with humans, dogs and other wildlife. Would it treat with oral vaccines? Would it try to eradicate the raccoons? Would the city panic?
And then, suddenly, it was over. And aside from a single case in February 2011, there has been no raccoon rabies reported in Manhattan for almost a year. What happened?
You may remember reading about the extraordinary initiative that was quietly undertaken by the USDA to trap, vaccinate and release every one of Manhattan’s many healthy raccoons. (Surprisingly, marshmallows seem to be the urban raccoon’s bait of choice.) Well, despite skeptics, that labor-intensive program worked, at least in the short term.
The population of Manhattan’s raccoons is smaller and healthier. This hole in Riverside Park’s retaining wall once housed as many as six raccoons; today there are two.
Our narrow island is again rabies-free. Fingers crossed that it stays that way.
Broadway and Riverside split at 107th Street, looking lovely
The water towers wore white skull caps.
A crow surveys 109th Street from atop a water tower
Esau was on the alert for wildlife
Prey?
but the park was quiet
Steps lead toward the river
The retaining wall is always beautiful, and especially so with a dusting of snow.
Raccoons live here.
The entrance to the large raccoon den is once again piled with snow.
I once saw six raccoons emerge from this hole in the wall.
It’s been over a month since I’ve seen a raccoon here, and I’m starting to worry. Raccoons in northern climates pack on the fat in autumn so that they can spend less time foraging in the coldest days of winter and more time curled up in their den. They don’t actually hibernate, but they may sleep away several weeks of bitter weather, living off their fat stores and waiting for milder days. It’s been a cold and snowy winter, so maybe my Riverside Park raccoons are just dozing away the cold and dreaming of spring. But still I worry. (Check back soon for an update on raccoon rabies in NYC.)
Sledders were out
Traipsing up the hill
as were walkers
A man strolls in an only-in-New-York fuchsia faux-fur coat
ice dancers
Olympics pairs, they are not
and a single cross-country skier
Heading south
as well as a passel of happy dogs.
Happy but headless snow dogs
No birds to be seen yesterday.
Branches empty of animals
Unlike Sunday, when a hawk devoured a songbird on the bare ground beneath the retaining wall
Red-tail takes a break from pulling entrails
The snow had finally melted in parts of the park
Back to work
and the hunting was good
Do you mind? I'm eating here.
After a few minutes, the hawk soared over my head, so low that I ducked to avoid contact with the carcass gripped in his talons. He swooped up to a branch high above the ground in search, perhaps, of privacy from paparazzi like me
Alone at last
And there, finally taking the hint, I left him to his meal.
Last weekend, Esau and I discovered a gray box snuggled up against the retaining wall in Riverside Park.
Mystery box
A round hole at either end led to a small chute and a dark interior.
Flowers at the front door
High in the wall, just south of the box, is a raccoon den. I know it’s a raccoon den because, for the past year, I’ve been regularly watching raccoons as they emerge from this hole to watch the world go by before venturing out on evening raids into the park. I have on occasion seen as many as five or six raccoons pour out of the hole like bulky little clowns out of a clown car.
Are you looking at me?
“Aha!” I thought gleefully, and my heart danced. “I am at long last seeing, with my own eyes, the traps used by the USDA to catch raccoons.” Need I remind you of my fascination with NYC’s dramatic outbreak of raccoon rabies as well as the USDA’s patient and effective program to vaccinate virtually every raccoon residing in Manhattan?
The vaccination program began last spring in Central Park, the epidemic’s epicenter, and branched out into Morningside Park and Riverside Park. (Click to read about the program and about Lee Humberg, the biologist in charge.) By April, over 230 raccoons had already been vaccinated and tagged for future identification.
The current round of trapping allows the USDA to vaccinate any raccoons that may have been missed as well as juveniles that were too young or vagrants that have wandered into the area. If a trapped animal appears unwell, it will be euthanized and tested for rabies. This humane and labor-intensive approach has led to a steep drop-off in the number of raccoon rabies cases with only three confirmed reports in the past three months. Compare that to March 2010 with a monthly high of 38 confirmed cases.
But this trap was targeting my raccoons, and I wanted to know more about it.
I longed for a closer look at the gray box, but was deterred by fencing put up by the Riverside Park Fund to protect their lovely plantings.
So Esau and I walked south on the path near the wall, keeping our four eyeballs peeled.
Sure enough, about four blocks south we found a second gray box, identical to the first, but on an unfenced slope. We drew near and read this intimidating warning
on the hinged and securely padlocked lid
In other words: Mind your own beeswax.
Undeterred but cautious, we peered inside and saw that each round hole led to a separate (empty) wire mesh “Have-a-Heart” trap, baited with … marshmallows
Start the fire and find a stick.
The traps were gone within a couple of days. Whether any raccoons were caught – or were spotted roasting marshmallows and making s’mores – remains just another small NYC mystery.
Strolling in Central Park with Esau yesterday morning, I was surprised to encounter dramatic new “Rabies Advisory” signs on lamp posts along the western edge of the park.
The new signs scream “Rabies” in multiple languages (La Rage! Rabbia! Tollwut!) and feature a realistic line drawing of a hulking raccoon that could probably hold its own as a National Football League center.
Last winter, when it had become clear that Manhattan was in the midst of a raccoon rabies epidemic, bright green signs appeared on park lamp posts, urging visitors to “Leave Wildlife Alone.”
Note the cute little cartoon-like drawing of a raccoon head and the small lettering for the words “rabies advisory.”
The new signs are striking, easy to read and, well, kind of scary. But why scare us now? The epidemic appears to be mostly over, thanks to USDA’s humane and labor-intensive program to individually trap, vaccinate and release Manhattan’s healthy raccoons. Over 130 already-infected raccoons have died off since summer 2009, while the remaining, much-decreased, vaccinated population should serve as a barrier that prevents the disease from reaching epidemic proportions.
After a monthly high of 38 reported rabies cases in March 2010, the numbers began to decline. June and July saw three rabies cases each, and August became Manhattan’s first rabies-free month since November 2009.
So I repeat, why the scary new signs? Well, it ain’t over till it’s over and with rabies these days, it may never be completely over. In early September, a single rabid raccoon was found in Central Park in the West 70s, reminding us just how difficult it is to eradicate a disease with a long incubation period. And to maintain effectiveness, we’ll probably need an annual vaccination program to ensure that new babies are trapped and immunized.
But even if we were to succeed in immunizing the entire resident raccoon population, raccoon rabies is now endemic across the eastern seaboard from Florida to Maine. Raccoons and other wild animals, including skunks and coyotes, regularly find their way from the mainland to Manhattan, as juveniles seek new territory. They cross the railroad bridge from the Bronx or swim a narrow channel. If in their travels, they have been in contact with a rabid animal, they will again bring rabies to our island paradise.
So heed the scary signs, and leave wildlife alone. Enjoy the raccoons, but don’t feed them or try to lure them closer so you can get a better photo.
And while we’re at it, it’s probably better not to feed any of our urban wildlife, except maybe small migrating songbirds.
Grazing geese take over the outfield in Morningside Park
Feeding by humans encourages animals to overpopulate, which makes us consider them pests that need to be eradicated, as in this summer’s killing of geese in Prospect Park. Unnaturally dense populations allow disease to flourish and spread. So if you have a soft spot for geese, raccoons, pigeons, squirrels and other urban wildlife, do the animals a favor and stop feeding them.
Red-eared sliders, expecting crumbs, mass beneath the Turtle Pond overlook
If you don’t have a soft spot for animals, count yourself lucky that we don’t yet have a need for these signs in Manhattan:
Sign in Vancouver, Canada proclaims: Warning! Coyotes in the Area
Then again, coyotes love goose eggs, so maybe you goose-haters want to roll out the coyote welcome mat. After all, as the sign says, coyotes are “smart, fast, and will take what they can get.”
Welcome or not, coyotes will be back in Manhattan. If not this winter, then next. They may be here already, slipping through the old growth of Inwood Park and the tangles of Highbridge.
Esau contemplates ducks as a possible food source.
Find out why yesterday’s sighting of a USDA truck is cause for rejoicing.
But first, strange markings appeared last week on the retaining wall and nearby path.
Target close-up
What does it mean?
With my wildlife-obsessed outlook, I speculate that the circled numbers and targets have something to do with the raccoon vaccination program. But what? Do the markings indicate that trapping and vaccinating has begun in Riverside Park? Do they show where raccoons are likely to be found?
The park is cool, bright and windy.
Here and there the pervasive brown of winter yields to color.
Storm-created ponds remain.
Hay bales enisled in spring pond
Sparrows huddle in forsythia bushes, puffed up like little balloons against the wind.
Magnolia buds prepare to pop.
Suddenly, up ahead on a pathway, we see … a USDA truck.
Be still, my heart.
You have to understand. USDA is handling the Trap-Vaccinate-Release program for the city. If anyone can answer my many questions, USDA can. Earth-shattering questions, like: How is the program going? Any estimates on the Central Park raccoon population? How long will it take to know if the program is succeeding? Any new theories on why the disease took such vehement hold this year?
Esau and I run after the truck. But it gets away.
Saddened, we trudge toward home. Then, half a mile north, it suddenly reappears. We run. We wave our arms. The truck stops. The window rolls down. Success! We speak briefly with the driver through the window.
A USDA biologist, he confirms that the Riverside Park phase of the raccoon vaccination program began on Tuesday. The markings on the wall have nothing to do with the raccoons. He seems to need to get back to work and offers his card for a follow-up conversation.
We sing as we head north, happy to have even a little more information.
At 108th Street, we discover the Man Behind the Marks.
He’s keeping park-goers safe by surveying the retaining wall for structural weaknesses in hopes of preventing problems, like the collapse of the retaining wall that closed the West Side Highway for three days in 2005. The marks and targets help him line up his equipment for accurate readings. The targets are always there, he says. He recently freshened up the paint, which is why we suddenly noticed them.
“So how’s it look?” I ask. “The wall.”
“It’s an old wall,” he says. “But it looks pretty good.”
I couldn’t agree more.
Snow-covered retaining wall from just a few weeks ago. Beautiful.
I spoke Tuesday with Dr. Sally Slavinski of the NYC Health Department to get the latest on the city’s response to the swiftly spreading rabies situation. I will write a more detailed post as soon as I can find time, but here is the news in a nutshell, with few details, few photos and little discussion.
As of February 10, 39 rabid raccoons have been found in Manhattan in 2010, most of them in or around Central Park. Add in 2009’s rabid raccoons, and the number is a staggering 49. (A number that makes us wonder just how large is the Central Park raccoon population – but that’s for a later post.)
Central Park raccoon by dscape/Flickr.com
One person and one dog have been bitten, and received post-exposure treatment. Another person received treatment after attempting to care for a sick raccoon. (In another post, I’ll fill you in on the latest from conspiracy theorists, who believe the city intentionally introduced rabies to justify eradicating a healthy raccoon population. Or something like that.)
So what is the city doing? On February 16th, in a multi-agency collaboration with the USDA, the Parks Department and the Central Park Conservancy, the Department of Health began a trap-vaccinate-release program to vaccinate raccoons in Central Park against rabies.
For the next four to eight weeks, raccoons will be caught in live traps that are strategically placed in less accessible areas of the park. The animals will be vaccinated on the spot by USDA workers, given ear tags for identification, and released back into their home environment. Raccoons that appear sick will be euthanized and tested for rabies. The program will expand to include Morningside Park (two reported cases) and Riverside Park (no reported cases).
In summer 2010, a second phase of trap-vaccinate-release will be launched to vaccinate baby raccoons born this spring.
Raccoons that are already infected will die within days of showing symptoms. If we can stop the cycle of transmission through inoculation, we can, theoretically, eradicate the virus. At least, for now. And when the next rabid raccoon follows the Amtrak corridor into Manhattan, our local raccoons will already be immunized.
Snowed-in Raccoon Den in Riverside Park
I checked to be sure the Department of Health had plans to immunize the five raccoons I watch in Riverside, and am happy to report that a location has already been selected for a trap.
Much more to come. But meanwhile, if you come upon a trap in the park, leave it alone. Call 311 if the trap holds a raccoon. Also call 311 if you see a raccoon that appears sick or is behaving strangely. But leave the wildlife alone.
Esau imagines himself as King, Sergeant Preston of the Yukon's lead sled dog
And be sure your dog’s rabies vaccination is up to date.
Esau and I went raccoon spotting the night before last, around 7:30 PM. The evening before, we had seen the usual trio. The mother and one baby were up on the wall near their den entrance, and the other baby was down on the ground, messing around with some unidentified object. It was too dark for me to see what he was up to, but after a short time, he suddenly became aware of our presence and ran up a nearby tree.
photo: Velo Steve/Flickr.com
Last night, we saw no raccoons at first, probably because several big, goofy dogs were galumphing about, off leash, near the wall. The raccoons’ good judgment in staying hidden I take, in these viral days, as an indicator of continued rabies-free health.
After the goofy galumphers and their oblivious cell-phone yakking owners went on their way, one raccoon (the mother?) emerged to hang out at the entrance and sniff the air, nose held high.
Lime Leaf Restaurant, highly recommended. Photo courtesy of Mary Sargent
We didn’t wait to see if the others would follow Big Mama, as our take-out food was getting cold over at Lime Leaf, the lovely Thai restaurant at 108th and Broadway.
Wishing the raccoons a quiet evening, we left, heading east to Broadway.
(The photo above is by Mary Sargent who has made it her mission to photograph every street in Manhattan. Check out her delightful photo blog: Manhattan Street Project. When we were looking long-distance for an apartment, I browsed her blog to get a feel for different neighborhoods.)
I’ve been so interested in Manhattan’s raccoon rabies epidemic that I’ve been neglecting to write about the raccoons themselves.
I continue to watch my local raccoons almost every evening, and get powerful pleasure from seeing them go about their business.
Five of them live in one den, a rectangular hole in the stone retaining wall. A mother and two babies are the trio I see most often, making their way along the wall, usually heading north. Sometimes they stop and just sit in one spot for five minutes or more. Other times they seem almost to defy gravity as they move across the vertical stones, fifteen feet in the air.
Riverside raccoon in big home den
The two babies are darker in color, and their markings, particularly the rings on the tails, are less distinct. The little ones often duck into tiny holes on the wall, holes that seem way too small to admit them. But they pour themselves in, haul their tails in, and then whip around so their little pointy faces are peeping out. I’m guessing a lot of their seeming bulk is actually fur that compresses to allow them to squeeze into small spaces.
The remaining two raccoons are more mysterious. They seem to let the family trio leave first, then one spends a long time peeping out of the den before deciding to head out. I think both are adults, but am not sure. I’ve rarely seen all five out at once – only twice in the many times I’ve watched. And I’ve learned that it is surprisingly difficult to get a good read on size, unless the animals are in close proximity to each other.
I occasionally hear the raccoons chuckling and chattering at each other. Once there was a veritable “cat fight” going on inside the den. All we could see was the big rear end of one raccoon filling up the entry way. But it certainly sounded as if someone was reading the riot act inside.
Most of the time, though, they are silent, and their coloring blends right into the rock at night. People, and even dogs, stroll by, and never know the strange ring-tailed creatures are there, moving quietly along the wall fifteen feet above their heads.
And, ladies and gentlemen: watch closely. Now you see me …
Out walking the dog 