Ranger Rick Next Door

I was sleeping peacefully last night in Central Park when I was woken by a rustling in the bushes not one foot from my head.  My body kicked into action before my mind did, and before I knew what was going on I was standing upright, still mummified in my sleeping bag, with a stick in hand to defend myself (although the stick was still attached to the tree.)  As my eyes adjusted I saw what I was up against: a monstrous, fierce little raccoon.  All the stories of how effective raccoon attacks can be came to my mind.  It was after my left over Olive Garden, and it was not afraid of me.  But after some swinging the branch around it scampered up the tree next to my camping spot.  

I laid back down, staring up at the raccoon who was staring down at me.  As I settled down I realized how cute it was, and it brought to mind a magazine I used to read as a kid about a raccoon named Ranger Rick, who talks about how his home is nature and how humans are slowly taking away his home by building more and more.   I thought about how this Ranger Rick had never known what untouched wilderness was like.  

I moved the Olive Garden to a hidden spot aways away, and when Rick came back down he went straight for the spot, I underestimated his intelligence.  Then he dragged the bread sticks into the bush next to me.  That's when I realized I've been sharing a home with a raccoon for a week.  I regretted not being more cordial.  Next time I'll invite him over for dinner.  

But it became apparent that I would not need to invite him, as later that night I felt his pointy little feet crawling up my sleeping bag, one cold paw hit my bare leg where I had the vent open.  Then he rested on my hip.  I don't know if he knew what giant he was resting on, but I took the moment to feel the connection, the closeness.  And when I shifted my head, he waddled into the night.

As much as I've grown to love aspects of New York-the people, the energy, the culture, the history, the diversity-I cannot stay here now.  I crave openness: environmentally, interpersonally and internally.  I crave accessibility, both of land and of people.  Soon I will have different stories to tell.