An Unexpected Save

When an argument gave way to grace.

It was a crisp October afternoon as my husband John turned into the north entrance of the parking lot of The Woodlands Medical Specialists in Pensacola. I was scheduled for what we expected would be a brief visit to the Infusion Suite where RN Becky would give me a Filgrastim injection. As we rounded the first turn in the congested parking lot, I spied reverse lights on a large white SUV about to pull out of a parking space close to our entrance.

“There’s someone leaving—right there,” I said, pointing. But John didn’t slow down.

"Kelly, I was trying to keep from getting hit by that car coming from the other way," he said, mildly annoyed.

"Yes, and they got that spot!" I retorted.

The spat continued as we drove slowly ahead toward the front of the medical center. John turned right as I searched for an open spot that wasn't in the middle of nowhere, and suddenly John said, "There's a baby raccoon."

The grumbling ceased and the parking dispute was forgotten in seconds as John abruptly stopped the car and jumped out to go to the frightened baby. I was right on his heels as we both held our breath for the tiny creature as it scurried away from the wheels of the car in front of us. The driver seemed completely unaware that he held the baby's life in the balance. As he maneuvered away, John quickly moved in.

I had never seen a raccoon baby so small. He — or she — was the size of a five- or six-week-old kitten, a little fluff-ball of fur puffed out as far as the little guy could balloon, no doubt to seem more substantial than he was. John hastily squatted down and reached for the baby, and as he did, the little raccoon tipped its pointed snout upward in a defensive posture. In spite of his size, I'm sure he could bite, and since raccoons can carry rabies, John wisely backed off. He ran back to the car and grabbed his hoodie from the back seat. Carefully maneuvering behind the raccoon, he covered the baby with the sweatshirt, wrapping it around him gently. He held him away from his body as he carried him back to the car and climbed into the passenger side so I could resume our hunt for a parking space.

As luck would have it, there was one close to the entrance.

"My appointment won't take long," I said. "We can take him to the refuge as soon as I'm done." Still a little winded from the excitement, I made my way into the building to the Radiation Suite.

Less than twenty minutes later when I returned to the car, I took a picture of the little guy wrapped up in John's hoodie with only his face visible. His mask was so dark I could barely see his tiny black eyes, but when I looked closely, they were like shiny onyx beads. While I was gone, John had made a phone call to the Wildlife Sanctuary of Northwest Florida to inquire about bringing the baby there, and the woman he talked to told us they were happy to take him. John said she expressed thanks to us for picking him up and said that most people just go on their way with barely a thought about saving an animal, especially a wild one.

When we got there, a young woman greeted us at the door and asked us to fill out a form about where we had found the baby, along with our contact information.

"Did either of you touch him at all?" she asked. When we told her we'd been careful not to, she said, "That's good. If you had, we would have to inform the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service."

She remarked about how skinny he was and said his mother had probably left the nest for food and been killed. Eventually, the babies might have all left the nest, as this little one did.

On the drive back to Navarre, I sent the raccoon's picture to several friends and to my sister. Her first question was, "What are you going to do with it?"

I told her later that I knew she was thinking, She's going to take that baby raccoon home and raise it herself. She laughed because that's exactly what her first reaction was. She knows me very well — I would love to have raised the little guy myself, but I have enough on my plate as it is.

I called the sanctuary today to ask about the baby's status. When we left him, I was a little concerned that he might not make it because he was so weak. Unfortunately, I was told they were in the process of reorganizing recent paperwork and asked if I could call tomorrow, so I will. Once I learn if he made it and will be released soon along with all the other babies (they had several), I will update this story, so check back.

If you've never rescued an animal — let alone a baby animal — you are missing out on one of the most rewarding experiences of life. I'm so lucky to be married to a man who shares my love of the wild — whether it's mountains and woods or oceans and beaches; domesticated dogs and cats or snapping turtles, possums, and raccoons — we love them all and would stop whatever we were doing to save any one of them in distress. It’s a small thing, really — stopping for a life smaller than your hand. But it’s also everything. I like to think God smiles at moments like that.