The Day Delight Peered Out from the Old Oak Tree

Susanne Swing Thompson
Jun 5
3 min read

Outside our second-floor bedroom window stands a Water Oak tree, its thick trunk and long branches quietly telling me that it is older than my 64 years. In line with the window is a large hole in the tree's trunk, made when one of its strong branches came down decades ago. The scar in the bark is now well-healed.

To my human and wishful thinking, the hole would make the perfect nesting place for a pair of owls. I look every day to see signs of activity when Barred Owl nest-building begins in winter. Nothing. I have noticed multiple squirrels apparently making use of the comfy quarters, but even with those I haven't seen a "squirrel family." I would love to see that, too.

Still, I keep looking.

Then one day in late May, I noticed a movement inside the hole, and a gleam of light catching a pair of eyes. They weren't the eyes of a squirrel, nor the much-hoped for eyes of a Barred Owl.

They were the ink-black eyes of a raccoon. Now she was looking right at me, her sweet face and the catch-light in her eyes completely drawing me in.

I couldn't have anticipated how excited I would be to see those eyes, as it never even crossed my mind I might see a raccoon. I think the last time I saw a raccoon was as a child when my family lived in Florida.

But there they were, those beautiful deep eyes looking out from the tree trunk. I quickly ran downstairs and got my camera. After capturing a few photos, I saw the raccoon burrow back down, out of sight.

I didn't see her again for six days (but it wasn't for lack of watching). Finally, I saw some movement again. This time the raccoon was outside of the hole, tucked within the leafy branches right next to it.

Her deep eyes looked at me again, and I tried to emote that she was welcome as I stayed calm and just stood there. She, too, stayed calm, and went back to whatever she was doing.

Then the most amazing thing happened. I watched as the raccoon started to go back into the hole...

...and when she reemerged she was holding a young kit in her mouth!

Through my long lens, I could see that the baby's eyes were still closed, its mask barely differentiated from the camouflage of gray body fur. This little one must have been less than a few weeks old. The mama spent some time arranging her tiny bundle.

I do not know how many other kits were in the den; I thought I caught a glimpse of a second one but I am not sure. Anyway, within just a few minutes the mama tucked herself and her baby back into the hole (I assume to get some much-needed rest). Soon, her head was burrowed below the pine needles.

I only saw the raccoon one other time, later that same day. Mama was once again out on the branch...

...this time grooming herself as she meticulously cleaned her tail and bent around to clean her back.

Having completed her cleaning, the raccoon returned to the den.

Again, she arranged a kit...

...then crawled back inside, arranged her tail, and (I assume) nestled down with her baby.

I ended up moving my bedside table so I could place my lens out the window more readily the next time I saw the raccoon(s). I have looked at that nest every day, multiple times a day. I keep the lights out and I don't just "stand there," as I don't want to frighten her. I do, however, find myself looking from different places in the house to see if I might catch a glimpse. Ten days later at time of this writing, I still haven't seen her.

I've since learned that raccoons often have multiple dens, and they will transport their babies between them. I keep hoping that some day I'll look out and find that the raccoon family has moved back into Water Oak Place.

Until they do, and even if they don't, I'm holding those moments in my heart.

Thank you for reading. I hope you will share this story with others.

Each Saturday I share one photograph and short bit of original writing (much shorter than this blog) in an email called "A Closer Look." If you would like to subscribe (it's free), please fill out the form on the Contact/Subscribe page of my website: www.wren-photos.com.

Susanne Swing Thompson is a nature appreciator who shares her experiences through photographs, writing, and nature journaling. Some of her photographs, books, greeting cards, and blogs can be found on her website. She, husband Jay, and their Brittany named Ella, live in Atlanta, Georgia, USA, where this story took place on May 21 and 27, 2026. Susanne and Jay have three grown children.