By Mike Sula
Cajandig visited the fence a few more times that fall, but she had her own raccoons to care for and a sudden series of personal problems to deal with. In May it was time to let her last two raccoons go. She’d released the first pair in November, so she knew this wasn’t going to be easy. “I know I cried for a week after I released the first two and I was going to have to do it again,” she says. “And I wasn’t in the best state of mind at the time anyway. That’s when I thought, ‘Oh my God, I’m not gonna have raccoons in my life. And right now I’m having a hard time in general. What can I do?’ That’s when I decided to go back to Rosehill.”
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Learning of spots in the woods where some people were depositing huge amounts of food, Cajandig began going to Rosehill every day, spreading a blanket, and waiting for the coons.
Cajandig didn’t bring much food into the cemetery, just some Froot Loops, which her own raccoons had loved. The animals were getting more than enough food from people who had been making deliveries for years.
“They were healthy,” says Mary Lou. “I read an article once in the Tribune about wildlife. And wildlife does not fare very well in the wintertime. But these guys were being fed every day. You see, if you start feeding wildlife you’re supposed to feed them all along. You don’t stop. I’m close by. I have nothing to do. I just feel sorry for these guys because there’s nothing over there.”
“I wish I had been better prepared for such a thing,” says Mary Lou. “Why didn’t anybody call us and talk to us? They have our number on file. We bought property. They see us coming in every day. Why didn’t they say they were having a problem with the raccoons?”
To stop the feedings on Western Avenue, the city has posted signs advising the public of the threat of rabies and other diseases and threatening food tossers with fines as high as $500. No Trespassing signs and health warnings have gone up along the tree line inside the cemetery.
