At first we were confused. We believed the hotdog wrappers which littered our campsite came from the trash they had invaded. But after we had stoked up a fire the next day, we realized that we had no (zero, nada, zilch) hotdogs left in the cooler. And our butter was decidedly mutilated. Let me explain.
The first night at our campsite was beautiful. The wind blew through our popup camper and the temperature was just right. But some noises disturbed our restful night. I groggily opened my eyes to hubby shining his flashlight out to scare whatever critter dared to approach our groceries in the night. It didn't work. So he reluctantly came out of the camper to investigate. Here's what he found: a raccoon with his hand in the cookie jar! Well, really we didn't bring our cookie jar with us. Nor do we actually own one. However, we did bring our butter, and this resourceful raccoon managed to pry the lid off with his claws, sit back on his haunches, and eat much of our tub of butter! I would give much to be able to have a picture to show you, but all we have are claw marks on the butter container (sorry, I didn't get a picture of that either).
The next night Nathan and I sat around the embers of our fire and chatted in the dark. I saw the outline of a large, fuzzy creature walking down the middle of the road. His eyes were round, focused flashlights in the night. He was completely fearless; used to taking what he wanted from unwary campers. He was the king of his domain. This was the last I saw of him for the duration of our camping trip.
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