Snarly

Is this a baby raccoon?

We found it outside our home, one evening, crying out loudly. We looked around to find any bigger version of this animal (it's mum/dad/uncles/aunts) but didn't find any. So, we wrapped it in blankets and bought inside our home. It was quivering quite violently. So, we put it inside the box and having no idea what it was, we tried to make it drink water and eat some lettuce/grapes (of course without any avail). A telephone call to the wildlife office informed us that it could be a raccoon and we would be better be careful as it could attack us. Of course that evening we didn't believe the officer and caressed the little fella and tried to make it as comfortable as possible with blankets and sheets and waters and all sorts of fruits and vegetables. But came morning and lo and behold it showed it's true form. That is why I called him/her Snarly.

Raccoon, Raccoon
by Pam Miller

Raccoon, raccoon,
Up in a tree,
Raccoon, Raccoon,
You can't see me.
Raccoon, raccoon,
I can see you
Eating fish and corn and birds' eggs too.
Raccoon, raccoon,
Hunting at night,
Raccoon, raccoon,
Sleeps in daylight.

The Ballerinas

I don't know what these yellow flowers are called. But they were everywhere in the campuse of University of Oregon at Corvallis. And they would sway in the light breeze as if dancing. In the early morning, with the sun shining on part of them, it would literally appear as if they are greeting and welcoming the sun through their graceful ballet. And whenever I see yellow flowers, I don't know why but my heart starts pumping faster, I feel very light-headed, glee and happy and remember my favorite poem (perhaps this poem influenced me from at a very early age).

Daffodils" (1804)

I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine


And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

By William Wordsworth (1770-1850).