Nibbles

The feeder is no ordinary feeder. It includes a video camera and motion detector, so that when birds land on the platform, it records a fifteen-second video of birds eating seeds and sends the video to the owner’s mobile device.

My niece, Andrea, has one of these super-duper bird feeders. My brother gave it to her, and ever since, Andrea, who lives in Birmingham, has enjoyed seeing her birds up close and personal. She often sends us video footage of the birds on her feeder with commentary.

Then last week, Andrea sent several of us family members a video with a note saying, “I love him so much!” I paused what I was doing and watched a silver and black raccoon’s face chewing, chomping, smacking and gnawing sunflower seeds from the platform of her feeder. His little hands were so human-like. His face was masked like Zorro. The video was as cute as it could be.

Then she sent another video of the animal — this time the raccoon visited in the darkness of night. Her message read, “All night long.”

The following day, she sent a text saying, “I’ve named him ‘Nibbles.’” Andrea’s falling in love with a little raccoon named Nibbles that robs her birdseed warms my heart. I, too, love these little creatures and have since I was a toddler and received a stuffed raccoon from my Aunt Gloria. I slept with my arm hooked around the neck of my sable-colored stuffed raccoon, lovingly named, ‘Raccoon,’ every night for years. He was my best friend.

When I was about five, my family visited my Uncle Robert and Aunt Danny Jarriel in Jacksonville, Florida. We spent one night at their house and most of the next day. As we packed to go home the following night, I couldn’t find Raccoon anywhere. I pitched the fit of fits, but it didn’t change the situation — Raccoon had vanished!

Uncle Robert brought a flashlight outside and shined it up towards the treetops around his house. He assured me that Raccoon was probably in a tree and that he would come down by the next morning.

Uncle Robert said, “When he comes down, we’ll send him back home to you.”

I was inconsolable. Even at five, I knew deep down that Raccoon was just a stuffed animal — only capable of climbing the trees of my imagination.

For several days, I was heartbroken without my stuffed companion. Then two weeks later, the postman delivered a box to me from Aunt Danny. In it, I found a brand new raccoon, much like my own, and a handwritten note.

Dear Amber, Raccoon finally came home the other night and boy was he a mess! So we took him to the spa and got him all cleaned-up for you.

We know that you have missed him very much. Love, Aunt Danny To this day, I love raccoons. They are welcome on our back deck each and every night, as they rob the squirrel- proof bird feeders of their seeds. They wash the feast down with water from a bird bath mounted on our railing. Last night, we witnessed a mama raccoon bring two little bushy babies with her and show them how to retrieve sunflower seeds from the feeder. My husband, our dog, and I stood

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at the window and watched them with smiles.

So I understand how excited my niece is about Nibbles.

“Haven’t seen Nibbles in a couple of days,” Andrea texted on Friday. “I’m worried.”

So am I, but then it hit me: Maybe he’s at the spa getting a makeover, much like my stuffed raccoon did in 1970.

I sure hope Nibbles comes back to her backyard bird feeder soon and entertains us all with his mischievous eyes; his tiny, dexterous paws; his ringed tail; and his irresistible raccoon charm.