Submitted by Nathan Bolls

The omnivorous hunting raccoon ambled along the trail leading to the East Gazebo in our Natural Area and then out onto the Bayer Pond Dam. Its first serious stop was near the deer feeder; it has no aversion to good corn kernels. Later it moved to the shrubs and trees west and north of the dam, looking, no doubt, for fruits and berries.

Did it ever once look up? Did it ever notice or wonder about the stars, even an especially bright star? Had it ever noticed the cattle in the adjoining K-State pasture? Would it have noticed if some of them had been gathered beside a manger? Would it have noticed if shepherds had been tending the herd by night?

It surely would have noticed the singing or presence of coyotes or of wandering dogs. Would it have picked up on any unusual singing or exclamations that occurred during one particular night?

Would it have felt gladness of heart, a lightness in its soul? Would it have had an increased hope that its life could be richer, more fulfilled? That its life could be channeled toward even greater purpose?

Would the raccoon, with its single reproductive season each year, ever have noticed that human mothers may give birth any month of the year. Would it have noticed one particular night when large stained glass windows glowed with light as those within celebrated a birth that occurred during a winter long ago in a land far away?

A multiple-choice question, with the supposedly intelligent answer being “NO to all of the above.” I wonder. Does this mean the raccoon is less sacred, less worthy of being appreciated for what it is? Less worthy of living among us?