Last night, I was awakened at 3 AM by a high-pitched squabble behind our farmhouse. I knew from past experience that it was a pair of raccoons.
It was a friendly squabble, not an aggressive encounter between two males. Indeed, it is mating season for the raccoons and we can soon expect to observe the mother and her kits as they explore the property; the father plays no role in raising the young and has probably already moved on.
As cute as they are, less than half of the young raccoons will likely survive the year, succumbing to predation, starvation or vehicle traffic. Meanwhile, as long as they stay out of our attic, the family will be welcome on the farm; I hope that she will den in the barn but raccoons are smart creatures and they prefer heated structures in this pleasant but fickle Front Range climate.
