54 The Raccoon 
despised, but the muscles of the old ones are too 
highly flavored and decidedly tough. 
But life is not all freedom and feasting for the rac- 
coon. Not even when the corn is in the milk; for 
then the hunting season is at its height. Raccoon- 
hunting is one of the American sports in which there 
is little dignity. In fact I never attended such a hunt 
where there was any pretence of anything other than 
confusion; and from what I have heard the con- 
ditions must be very similar to those of the opossum- 
hunt in the South. But in reality it is a scrious matter 
to prepare for a raccoon-hunt; for your passage 
through the wet corn, the race across the stubble-field, 
through briers and thicket, contact with the barbed- 
wire fence, which you did not see in time,—all these 
factors work toward reducing your clothing to mere 
threads. The light unto your feet while you were 
running came from a lantern carried by a friend, and, 
as fate would have it, his body was often between you 
and the light just when you most needed illumination. 
Among the numerous pitfalls are the hollows that are 
so often filled with water. Both man and dog are 
liable to get a good ducking, which is of course only 
one of the many incidents of raccoon-hunting. 
The real old-fashioned raccoon-hunt is not a select 
affair; it embraces the neighborhood. Nothing is 
