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If you ever get the privilege of camping on Beausoleil Island (part of the Chimnissing-Beausoleil First Nation), in Georgian Bay Ontario, it is a lovely place full of woods, wilderness, picturesque shorelines, and is entirely the domain of the black-masked little devil known as the North American Raccoon. They are curious, clever, can use those dextrous little paws to get into just about anything, and by the end of your first night you will fully understand their complete and total dominion over the island.
They will seek out any food you do not properly, and securely, seal away. They will stealthily sneak up and snatch marshmallows right out of your hand as you sit waiting by the campfire to roast them. One curious little explorer once stuck his nose into my mother’s piping hot coffee, instantly regretting it with a squeak scuttling away clutching at his snout as my mother dumped out her coffee and chuckled her way over to get a refill.
On one of our trips we tried storing the sealed plastic bread bin on the boat but three intrepid critters made their way onboard and began fighting over the bin, sounding in that enclosed space like three times their actual size. My father tried to chase them off the boat but they simply ducked and hid under the seats, only leaving…