Many consider raccoons clever to a fault
- John Lorson: The Rail Trail Naturalist
- May 23, 2025
- 42
Camping last weekend in Mohican Country before our annual dose of self-inflicted suffering in the Mohican 100 mountain bike race, my buddy and I reminded ourselves of last year’s breakfast debacle. We had risen bright and early, hoping to gobble down some fuel before our 7 a.m. start, only to find breakfast had apparently taken place in the middle of the night.
The raccoons had defeated the latch on a heavy plastic storage container we had left out on the picnic table and proceeded to help themselves. I had honestly thought the tub was 'coon-proof. I should have known better.
As I explain it to school kids when I hold up a raccoon skull next to a groundhog skull, the groundhog, who earns a living by pilfering hay and beans from farmers, never has too much to think about. He wakes up, crawls out of his hole and immediately proceeds to find green things and eat them. The raccoon, on the other hand, has an omnivorous diet and a sophisticated palate. He’ll eat just about anything, and he’ll spend all night searching for the easiest route to a tasty meal.
When I point out the difference in the size of the critters’ craniums, the part of the skull that holds the brain, another lesson unfolds. Even though the animals are very similar in size, the brain of the raccoon is nearly twice the size of that of the groundhog. A larger brain size doesn’t always equate to superior thinking skills, but in the case of the groundhog and raccoon, it would be tough to deny who the math champion of this pair ought to be.
Raccoons are abundantly equipped to solve problems and figure things out — how to raid your cooler, how to make their way into your chicken coop, how to thumb their way through all of your trash to find the chicken bones and pizza crust you didn’t finish.
While raccoons have always been clever, they haven’t always been the nuisance they are today. When I was a kid, there was a thriving ‘coon hunting and trapping culture that was driven by both tradition and a robust market for their fur. Populations were stable, healthy and kept in check by a significant annual harvest. With a plunge in market demand, the harvest numbers began a downward trend that continues today. Raccoon populations have soared along with problematic interactions with humans.
Worse still, the increase in raccoon population has amplified the problem of disease — a fact of life for any population that loses its control factor. For raccoons, both distemper and rabies wreak havoc. The latter is a life-threatening issue for humans as well.
In hopes of controlling rabies in wild raccoon populations, the USDA Wildlife Services coordinates an airdrop of oral rabies vaccine into areas where outbreaks are highest. This year alone, 300,000 doses in the form of blister packs that resemble the jelly packets you’d find at a diner will be scattered from low-flying aircraft into the woods of Ashtabula, Columbiana, Mahoning and Trumble counties.
When pierced by sharp teeth, the vanilla-scented packets burst into the mouth of the insatiably curious raccoon, delivering a dose of the same vaccine that keeps our dogs and cats safe. Lab science, coupled with the work of wildlife biologists in the field, uses the animal’s own sometimes problematic behavior to address a truly life-threatening issue. The research behind it is money well spent.
If you have comments on this column or questions about the natural world, write The Rail Trail Naturalist, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email jlorson@alonovus.com. You also can follow along on Instagram @railtrailnaturalist.