The noise of neighbors, the crying of babies… The lockdown under the epidemic has made the little raccoons in Toronto, Canada “distressed”.
The British “Guardian” reported on the 7th that as Toronto residents look forward to staying at home, they have more opportunities to contact raccoons. Because of this, the number of raccoon attacks on residents has increased by 62% in the past year. According to expert analysis, it is not that raccoons are becoming more and more aggressive, but because people always like to approach, pet or feed raccoons. These behaviors can easily cause the raccoons to be frightened and become very aggressive.
At the same time, more and more raccoons began to “invade” residents’ homes. They generally like to sleep in the bedroom.
Occupied by these obscure yet overwhelming endeavors, the monkey lay awake one night inside its small thorny enclosure, Boma, which to some extent protected his entourage from the destruction of the great beasts of the jungle. A lone warrior watched sleepily by the fire, which was forced to keep pending by the yellow eyes visible from the dark outside the camp. The complaining and coughing sounds of the big cats mixed with the countless sounds of the smaller settlements of the jungle and accelerated the wild play alongside this wild English lord. He tossed for an hour sleepless on his grass bed and then rose silently like a ghost. With Wazir on his back, he jumped over Boma’s wall from where the flaming eyes appeared, swung himself silently into a large tree, and was gone.
For a moment he hurried quickly forward through the middle of the forest, feeling excessive vitality, waving himself boldly over gaping openings from one giant jungle to another, and then climbing up to the swinging, weaker branches of the upper plateau, where the moon shone straight on him with a branch. Here he stopped and raised his face towards Goro, the moon. He stood with his arms raised, the cry of the male monkey almost on his lips, but still remained silent not to awaken his loyal wazires, to whom their master’s defiance was all too familiar.
And then he continued his journey more slowly, silently, and cautiously, for now the Monkey Tarzan was looking for prey. He descended to the ground into the complete darkness of the lush tree trunks and the greenery curving above. Every now and then he bent down and approached his nose all the way to the ground. He searched the game path and found a wide groove, and eventually the smell of a fresh mark on the Bara deer entered his nostrils. Tarzan’s mouth twitched, and a shallow growl came from his noble lips. He had detached even the last remnant of the artificial class symbols – he was again an early hunter – the first man – a representative of the highest type of the human race. Against the winds of the wanderings, he barely followed in remarkable footsteps, relying on his capacity for perception, which was so much beyond the possibilities of the common man that we cannot comprehend it. Even through the strong stink counter-currents from the carnivores, he could smell Bara; The sweet and intoxicating lemu of the Horta wild boar could not wipe out the traces of his prey – the penetrating, pleasant musky scent of the goat’s foot.
Soon the secretion from the body of the deer revealed to Tarzan that his prey was near. It made him go back to the trees – the lower level, from where he can look at the ground beneath him and get his ears and nose first notice of the actual contact with his prey. It didn’t take long before the monkey man noticed Bara standing alert on the edge of the moonlit opening. Tarzan crept silently through the trees until he was directly above the deer. In the right hand of the monkey man was his father’s long hunting knife, and in his heart was the carnage of the carnivore. Only for a moment did he stop above the unsuspecting Bara and then crashed on the smooth back of the animal. The push of his weight rattled the deer on his knees, and before the animal was able to get to its feet, the knife had entered its heart. As Tarzan got up to stand next to his prey body, to raise his terrible cry for victory toward the moon, the wind brought something into his nostrils, forcing him to move and be silent like a statue. His wild eyes stared fluttering in the direction from which the wind had brought him a warning, and a moment later the grass bent on the other side of the opening, and the Numa lion became majestically visible. Its green-yellow eyes were attached to Tarzan, who had just stood on the edge of the opening, and stared jealously at the lucky hunter, for Numa had had no success tonight. His wild eyes flickered in the direction the wind had warned him, and a moment later the grass bent on the other side of the opening, and the Numa lion became majestically visible. Its green-yellow eyes had clung to Tarzan, who had just stood on the edge of the opening, and stared jealously at the lucky hunter, for Numa had had no success tonight. His wild eyes stared fluttering in the direction from which the wind had brought him a warning, and a moment later the grass bent on the other side of the opening, and the Numa lion became majestically visible. Its green-yellow eyes had clung to Tarzan, who had just stood on the edge of the opening, and stared jealously at the lucky hunter, for Numa had had no success tonight.
There was a rubbery, warning growl from the monkey man’s lips. Numa replied, but didn’t get any closer. Instead, it stood still, wagging its tail quietly here and there, and soon crouched next to Tarzan’s prey and cut a plush piece from its thigh. Numa stared at him as the resentment and rage grew as the monkey muttered his wild warnings between meals. This lion had never before come into contact with Monkey Tarzan and was now badly puzzled. The creature had a human appearance and smell and Numa had tasted human flesh and found that although it was not the tastiest, it was at least more readily available. But the wild growl of the strange creature made it reminisce about terrible opponents and forced it to stop, though hunger and the smell of Bara’s warm flesh annoyed it almost to madness. Tarzan watched the lion to one measure, guessing what was moving in the carnivore’s small brain, and it was good that he did, because in the end, Numa couldn’t last longer. The animal’s tail suddenly rose to his feet, and at the same moment a vigilant monkey, who knew all too well what this sign meant, grabbed his deer’s thighs with his teeth, Numa attacking him as fast as the express train and apparently as heavy.
Tarzan’s retreat was no sign of fear. The life of the jungle is organized in a different direction than ours, and there is practically a different yardstick. Had Tarzan been hungry, he would no doubt have remained in place and received the lion’s attack. He had done so more than once before, just as he had attacked the lion himself in the past. But tonight he was not hungry, and the thigh he took with him had more raw meat than he could eat.
Yet he did not watch at all calmly as Numa tore the flesh of his prey. The arrogance of this guest Numan had to be punished! And immediately Tarzan began to bitter the feeling of a large feline. Like had many trees with large, hard fruit, and the monkey swung himself into one of them as agile as a squirrel. Then the bombing began, which made Numan roar in an earthquake. Tarzan tossed hard fruit into the lion’s neck one after the other as fast as he could gather and throw them. The amber cat was impossible to eat in such a hailstorm — it could only roar, growl, and avoid the menacing fruit, and in the end it was forced to flee the Bara deer completely from the body. It departed with a roar and vengeance, but in the midst of the opening the quiver suddenly ceased, and Tarzan saw,
Tarzan’s interest immediately awoke. He raised his head and sniffed the quiet breeze of the jungle. What had caught Numa’s attention and took it lightly and silently off the scene of his defeat? Just as the lion disappeared into the trees on the other side of the opening, Tarza discovered the wind blowing from there, which had once again piqued its interest — the delicate nostrils of the monkey man had a strong human odor. Counting the remnants of the goat’s thigh in the fork of the branch, Tarzan wiped his stained palms against his naked hip and waved himself off the branch, starting to persecute Numa.
A wide, well-trodden elephant path led from the opening into the woods. Numa crept in the direction of the path, and Tarzan advanced above it in the trees as a ghost-like shadow. The wild feline and the wild man saw the prey almost simultaneously, though they had already known before it appeared to their eyes that there was a black man there. Their delicate nostrils had said it, and Tarzan also knew that the smell came from a stranger – male and old, for each race, gender, and age has its own peculiar smell. The old man marched alone through a gloomy jungle, a wrinkled and withered little old man, terribly scarred, tattooed, and in bizarre attire — he had Hyena’s shoulder on his shoulders and his dried scalp on his gray head, Tarzan spotted Poppamie’s ear tags for the ape did not like the pop men. But the moment Numa attacked, the white man suddenly remembered that the lion had stolen his creature a few minutes earlier and that revenge was adorable.
The first information about the imminent danger came to the black man when the branches burst as Numa plunged through the bushes onto a game trail just twenty feet away from him. Then he turned and saw an immense, black-brushed lion crashing all the way, and it was when he turned that Numa reached him. At that moment, the monkey dropped from a branch hanging above directly on the lion’s back and, upon reaching it, pounded the yellow-brown side of his knife behind the right shoulder, grabbed his long brush with his right hand, slammed his teeth into Numa’s neck, and wrapped his strong legs around the animal’s body. Screaming in pain and rage, Numa got to his hind legs and fell back on top of the monkey man. But the mighty human being still held on, and a long knife quickly sank behind the habit into the animal’s side.
The Numa lion rolled itself from side to side, scratching and barking at the air, roaring and growling creepily, trying in a fierce way to catch a creature stuck in its back. More than once, Tarzan was on the verge of slipping off. He suffered bumps and wounds, and was stained throughout with the dirt of Numa’s blood and path, but he did not diminish for a moment the unrestrainedness of his furious attack, nor did he loosen his squeezing grip on the back of his opponent. Had he removed his hand for a moment, he would at the same time have been at the fingertips of his clawing claws and gnats, and the painful course of life of the English laurel born in the jungle would have ended forever. The popper now lay where he had fallen when the lion jumped. Unable to drag away, he watched a horrific and bleeding match between the two masters of the jungle. His bumpy eyes sparkled, and his wrinkled lips moved at the toothless gums as he mumbled ghostly prayers to the spirit beings he worshiped.
For a while he was sure of the outcome of the battle — the strange white man must have succumbed in the battle against the terrible Numa — who had heard that a lone man armed with a knife alone would have defeated such a mighty beast! But soon the eyes of the old Negro became larger, and doubts and hints arose in his mind. What a marvelous creature this was, who fought against Numa and held his side, ignoring the mighty muscles of the king of animals! In the deep eyes, which shone so brightly from the scarred and wrinkled face, the light of a slowly awakening memory faded. The memory looked for the past impressions of groping and finally brought out a faint image that had faded and turned yellow over the years. The picture showed a supple, white young man swinging himself from tree to tree, accompanied by a bunch of awesome monkeys. The old eyes flickered and reflected great fear — superstitious fear when one believes in ghosts, spirits, and devils.
Finally came the moment when the pop man no longer doubted the outcome of the fight. His first criticism changed, for now he knew that the god of the jungle would kill Numan. The old Negro was even more horrified by the fate that threatened him from the victor’s side than by the sure and sudden death which the victorious lion would have bestowed upon him. He saw the lion weaken from the bleeding, the mighty limbs tremble and shake, and finally the animal sank to the ground from which it no longer rose. He saw a forest god or elf rise from his defeated opponent, press his feet to the still-trembling ravine, lift his face toward the moon, and release a horrible cry that literally clotted blood in the Popper’s veins.