Darcymyces Palmatus

Day 48: Not uncommon in Pacific Northwest forests, Dacrymyces palmatus can be distinguished fairly reliably from similar Tremella mesenterica by the fact that this fungus grows on decaying conifer wood. Tremella appears less commonly on rotting fir and hemlock, preferring hardwood as its substrate. Another telling feature requires familiarity with the species in its dry state. Dacrymyces collapses in on itself like a deflated balloon whereas Tremella becomes tough and firm. This was a particularly healthy specimen of Dacrymyces, discovered off-trail during a walk from Longmire to Cougar Rock.

Arnie's Retirement

Day 47: Arnie's retirement party was today, the last day I will see him in the work environment. I am sad, but happy for him and Sara at the same time. They'll be in the area a little while longer, but then they hope to be off to Ashland OR and volunteer service at Crater Lake. It feels like a forever-goodbye, but he's assured me they'll be back to do some hiking in the Park next summer.

I took a lunch walk to practice my presentation speech, found myself at Cougar Rock 1.5 miles from the office without really realizing how far I'd gone. Even so, I couldn't get through everything I wanted to say, my voice faltering and the tears coming to my eyes. I've seen a lot of people come and go in Park Service, but there has been no one I'll miss as much as Arnie.

Slubby Cotton

Day 46: Around here, you never quite know what you might find in a forgotten corner of the crafts room. In this case, another foray into the depths of the cedar chest yielded up this slubby cotton, something I purchased over thirty years ago. I bought two large hanks, roughly 800 yards in each, and apparently used one for something at some point (I have a vague recollection of having knit a top out of it) or else the twins got separated somehow and the other one is still around here someplace. The slubs are too heavy to pass through the heddle eyes as a warp thread, but a vision is forming in my mind of warping alternating black and white stripes in 8/2 cotton and then using the slubby cotton alternately with black in the weft. This is why weavers' stashes are always packed full of bits and bobs: contrary to planning logic, we're waiting for the fiber to suggest the project rather than the other way around.

Erratic Behaviour

Day 45: Yesterday was a long day for me. I had business north of Seattle in the early afternoon with an open period of five hours before Morris practice. I am not one for going shopping, so I'd mapped out a couple of "earthcaches," geology-themed containerless geocaches. Both required visits to glacial erratics, large rocks which were transported to the area by glacial action. It was too slick to climb the biggest one and I didn't have a hand lens to help identify the lichens on the smaller, but I was reminded of an event from my childhood by these boulders.

While my father was alive, we lived in this general area. It was rural then, unlike its present suburban sprawl, and my dad decided to dig a garden at the edge of our orchard. He hadn't dug far before he hit the point of a problem rock. He kept digging, digging, digging, but he wasn't finding any particular slope to the rock's shoulders. He dug some more, the hole getting ever wider and marginally deeper as he tried to find the boundaries of the boulder. It became something of an obsession, and dinner conversation frequently rolled around to how he might get it out of the hole once he could get a chain around it, but fortunately for our old Ford sedan, that day never came. Daddy gave up after exposing a Volkswagen-sized portion of the offending object and simply shovelled all his hard-won dirt back in the hole. It may still be there for all I know, waiting for someone to dig it out and make an Earthcache out of it.

The Arnie Blanket

Day 44: It's close enough to the unavoidable moment for me to post this: Park Plant Ecologist and good friend Arnie is retiring, a fact which saddens me to no end. His wife is also hanging up her hat, so we're having a party for them on Thursday. This handwoven blanket will be my retirement gift to them. I also made a matching scarf for Sara, and Joe Dreimiller mounted photos of Team Biota's most memorable finds in a large frame. During his too-brief stint at Mount Rainier National Park, Arnie has been very supportive of me and of Team Biota. He has also helped me become a better scientist, teaching by example, gently correcting my errors, guiding my focus to the finer details of botany. We had some good days in the field (most of which wound up with me as the punch line when I sunk thigh-deep in mud or took a tumble into a bog), and I will forever be grateful for the hours he spent listening to me rave about a certain rare fungus, absorbing every word and then coming to me at some later date with printouts of research papers on the subject in the hopes of providing further insight into its special ecology. His support has meant the world to me, allowing me to "do science" on the Park's behalf. He will be missed by many people in the Park, but I think none quite so much as me.

Ah, yes, the blanket. It was woven as a double layer on a four-foot floor loom, and the design was based loosely on the famous "Hudson Bay" blankets of yesteryear. I used standard "fabric store" knitting worsted for warp and weft, and finished it with twisted fringe. I'm sure they'll enjoy it during chilly nights at Crater Lake where Arnie plans to continue working as a VOLUNTEER!

Hung For A Sheep

Day 43: The final stage in spinning wool is setting the twist, done by soaking the yarn and then hanging it to dry with weights (Gatorade bottles again) at the bottom. After an hour or two, the skeins should be advanced a little, and again in another few hours until the yarn is fully dry.

This is the wool I purchased at the Washington State Fair. I was unable to find any bags of exactly the same colour, so picked two which were close and equal in weight. I spun the dye lots separately and then plied them together, resulting in the lovely "tweedy" effect. That said, I'm going to be a little more critical when it comes to buying wool at the Fair if I do it again. One bag was good; the other was "padded" with tag ends combed out of the carders and included flecks of mylar, worthless puffs of a much softer and shorter wool, second cuts, straw and neps (tiny mats of fiber which are almost impossible to comb out). Nevertheless, I got 7.25 ounces of usable yarn from 8 ounces of stock, and the finished product is as pretty as I'd imagined it would be.

Leaf Diversity

Day 42: Besides being green, these leaves have something in common which might come as a surprise: they are all Hoyas. Hoya carnosa (the one with the white edge on the right) is most recognizable to the average houseplant enthusiast. It blooms in the spring, flowering at the tips of woody spurs which should never be pruned out. Above it, is Hoya fitchii which has a thinner leaf and sports light coppery-yellow flowers with pale pink centers during the summer. The large leaf in the upper left belongs to Hoya affinis, an "intermittent" bloomer. It comes into flower when it feels like it, although the vine must be at least four feet long before the brilliant red umbels appear. The smaller leaves are (left): Hoya bella, another "intermittent" which bears white flowers with maroon red centers. Bella is one of the most rewarding houseplants I've ever raised; H. cumingiana (center of the three small leaves) is a summer bloomer having pale yellow flowers with maroon centers and H. curtisii whose tiny but wondrously abundant leaves form a dense mat. Its intermittently-occuring flower umbels are pale yellow with just a touch of rose-pink at their centers. I'm always looking to add new Hoyas to my collection!

Christmas In November

Day 41: People always seem to be surprised when, after a few years, their "Christmas" cacti (Zygocactus) come into bloom at Thanksgiving. Like many of the flowering plants put out at this time of year, Zygo is easy to force into blooming out of season. If purchased in bloom at Christmas, the plant has undoubtedly been subjected to higher light levels and warmer temperatures in order to fool it into a later blossoming period. Left to its own designs after market, these cacti will revert to their normal flowering period. The bloom time may vary depending on individual conditions, but generally, your "Christmas" cactus is supposed to bloom in November. A second, smaller flush of blossoms often follows in January.

Little Lost Lamb

Day 40: I'm feeling a bit like Little Bo Peep after finding a long lost sheep in the bottom of the cedar chest. I was looking for a particular skein of yarn. It had to be in there somewhere, but by the time I'd hit bottom, I hadn't found it (it was in a different stash). As I was putting things back in, sweaters here, spun wool there, wool fabrics laid out flat, I came across a gallon Ziploc containing raw wool, black, very soft. Digging into it, I found a handwritten label: "Paskha." I couldn't believe my eyes.

Paskha was the first lamb born into the flock I maintained until I moved away from our Toadstool Acres family homestead. Looking back at photos, I found a date: 1988. Would forty-year old wool still be spinnable? Or would it have become brittle and too fragile? Several things were working in my favour. First, I'd picked the fleece before putting it away, nothing but prime locks in the bag. Second, I'd stored it "in the grease," i.e., without washing the lanolin out of it. I tested the fiber integrity with some heavy-handed carding. It was still in good condition. The bagful weighed out at two ounces, all I had left after the rest of Paskha's first shearing lamb's-wool had gone to make a sweater for a friend. I'm going to have to find a special purpose for the finished yarn, maybe in a Fair Isle yoke, little lost lamb returned to the fold.

Thankful For Lapful

Day 39: Black cats are not the easiest critters to photograph, and even less so when they patently do not like the camera staring at them. After putting up with it for just so long, Tip stopped making frowny-faces at it and curled up for a nap, smiling in his sleep. At 13 1/2 pounds, he's quite a lapful, and a very effective heating pad. There's some competition for the lap. Skunk takes possession right after breakfast and usually moves into her personal chair a few hours later. When Tip discovers she's vacated the coveted perch, he moves right in.

Spinning Alpaca With Cousin Itt

Day 38: Alien life form? Rapunzel? Going overboard with Mo-vember? No, it's Cousin Itt, almost ready to start spinning some heavenly soft, long-staple alpaca/Romney blend, a whole pound of it purchased at the Ashford Christmas Bazaar. A friend had alerted me to the fact that there would be fiber-arts people there and the possibility of some fleece, so I showed up right at opening time, expecting to find spun yarns, weavings and maybe a little raw wool. What I did not expect was a wall of dyed and processed fibers, some in locks, some in roving. I fingered a lot of different types, trying to make a decision, but when the booth's proprietor made an offer of $30/pound for the alpaca blend, my budgetary resolve melted like ice cream on a hot sidewalk. I'm now officially up to my eyeballs in wool for spinning. Can you tell?

Conservation Of Resource

Day 37: Lichens such as the Usneas (collectively called "Old-Man's Beard" in common parlance) excel at conserving available moisture. The fibrils which comprise the thallus of these lichens maximize surface area, and their tangled web allows them to hold water drops for a longer period of time than smooth-surfaced leaves can achieve. Although they may appear to dry out during periods of low rainfall, morning dew and atmospheric moisture are sufficient to sustain them. When damp weather returns, they rehydrate quickly. Even in desert climates, certain lichens can thrive, but of course in the Pacific Northwest, you're at risk of being colonized if you hold still longer than five minutes.

Graphis Scripta, Script Lichen

Day 36: It's always a thrill for me when I find Graphis scripta in a new location, mainly because it's darned hard to spot unless you have your nose pressed right up against the host tree. Many lichens have a thin white thallus, as you'd discover if you began looking closely at the bark of Alnus rubra, Red Alder. It's called "red" for a reason, although in the Pacific Northwest, the true colour is generally so thickly colonized by those assorted lichens that alder bark gives the overall impression of being grey. That said, G. scripta seems to be less common than other lichens, so I've made a personal project out of finding it. At least locally, it tends to be restricted to the lower portions of tree trunks, only occurring above 3' in height in rare circumstances. The black "scribbles" which characterize the lichen are called "lirellae," i.e., fruiting bodies (apothecia) which, if viewed closely, exhibit a groove down the center of the length. Some subtlety in its appearance caused me to step off the trail for a closer look at one young alder yesterday, and sure enough, G. scripta's Ogham characters had been written in a shaky hand a foot above ground level, untranslatable, elegant and almost too small to see.

National Take A Hike Day

Day 35: Not that I needed an excuse, but since today is National Take A Hike Day, I decided to do just that. I'd planned to amble down to the Nisqually-Ohop confluence a few days ago, but en route to the parking area, I passed a drug deal in process and pulled up beside a woman who, to all appearances, had just "released" five chickens into the state park. She spoke to me without being prompted, nervousness quite apparent in her voice, and claimed that they'd been there when she drove up. The chickens' behaviour indicated otherwise as they gathered around her feet as if they recognized her, but since I couldn't prove anything, I let it drop and started down the trail. The more I thought about the suspicious activities, the less sure I was about leaving my car unattended and after walking less than a quarter mile, I turned around and went home. Today, I made up for it and hiked to the trail's end, roughly two miles one way, and had the trail entirely to myself. "Hike with a buddy" be damned. Solitude ain't solitude if you have somebody else along.

Fruitcake Season

Day 34: It's fruitcake season, and I mention that, expecting one of two responses. The camps are strongly divided into those who love it and those who hate it and, quite honestly, if I had only been exposed to the commercially-produced varieties, I'd probably be singing a different tune. Homemade is always better, whether it's jams and jellies, biscuits, buns or bread, and fruitcake is no exception. Mine is never the same twice, although the basic recipe is for a "dark" version made with grape juice. The fruits and nuts I use depend on availability and budget. This year's cakes feature only two types of raisin (regular and golden) but have an extra measure of pecans in addition to the candied peels which give a good fruitcake its character. Therein lay an obstacle which nearly made me abandon the project. The only glacé fruit I could find was diced far more finely than I wanted, and never mind that it just came on the market recently when it should have been on the shelves by mid-October when any fruitcake-builder should be baking. After chasing around to every grocery chain within 50 miles, I realized that I was going to have to make do. The larger S&W glacé mix was simply not available, and all of the "house" brands looked as if they had come from the same source. With all the ingredients finally in hand, I baked this morning, two and a half hours for the small loaves, three and a half for the large. They've had their first dose of rum, and I'll add more weekly until Christmas when they'll be ready to eat.

Ceropegia Woodii

Day 33: Otherwise known as "Rosary Vine," the flowers which precede Ceropegia woodii's characteristic "beads" are fascinatingly unique. At roughly 3/4" long, the reproductive structures are concealed within a rounded base which narrows abruptly into a tube capped with five fuzzy purple incurved petals joined at the tips. In the wild, pollination is carried out by tiny flies which are prevented from escaping the tube by fine, downward-pointing hairs; in cultivation, it may require a human assist from a second plant. Fertile seed pods developing on Ceropegia in the home are rare. That said, this Ceropegia is not limited to a single reproductive strategy. It also forms knob-like tubers (the "beads of the rosary") at its leaf axils. When these grow to sufficient size, their weight breaks the stem and drops to the ground (if it doesn't get caught in the tangled vine!). Once in contact with moist soil, the tuber puts out roots and a new plant is established.

Dances With Wools

Day 32: By the time I got around to browsing the vendors at the Puyallup Fair this last September, much of the selection of dyed wool had been picked over and there were no two matching bags of roving in any hue I'd have considered for spinning. However, there were three or four which were similar, so I picked out the only two which didn't have mylar filaments: an aqua/blue/green combination and a blue/purple/black. Each bag contained four ounces, so by plying a strand of each, I'd have eight ounces of tweedy yarn, more than enough for a couple of hats. By its very nature, handspun has a distinctive look, but even moreso when using blended colours. Contrasted with commercially-produced, space-dyed yarns, the randomness possible with handspinning yields a truly unique product.

Wishful Thinking

Day 31: Since I started weaving over forty years ago, many of my favourite suppliers have closed shop for one reason or another, and I find myself longing for the variety of threads they carried. I don't recall if I bought this cotton bouclé weft at Robin & Russ (McMinnville OR) or the Weaving Works (Seattle WA), but that's neither here nor there. It is a delightful thread, but to the best of my knowledge, unavailable today. I've used pounds of it in the past in various colours, and the only shades I have left are this lavender/aqua/white and a brilliant solid yellow, only enough for a few hand towels each. The tendency when the supply runs low (regardless of the item) is to hoard the material and, like that last jar of artichoke hearts in my kitchen cupboard, I have to reproach myself into using it with a favourite phrase, "Stop archiving stuff!" I won't have enough to complete the four towels planned, so the last one will use the same thread as the warp. Nice thing about weaving: sometimes it's easy to change horses in mid-stream, but I sure will miss this soft, kinky thread.

Al-Der Water Gone

Day 30: In the thirty years I've lived here, I've seen the power company let Alder Lake down this far only a couple of times. This old railroad trestle is normally under water, drowned along with the rest of the structures which comprised the town until the dam was built in 1944. The town's few residents were relocated, their businesses closed, the schoolhouse demolished and a piece of local history disappeared into the mists like Camelot, resurfacing only at times of low water. At this point, you can walk out to the "big island," Bogucki. Schoolhouse Island sits high and dry off Sunny Beach Point. I've heard several explanations for the massive drain of the lake, the most believable being that law requires the power company to let a certain volume of water through the spillway or risk being fined. They are also required to monitor water temperature downstream, and as it rises, gates at the bottom of the dam are opened to let colder water through, ensuring the optimum temperature for salmon reproduction on the lower reaches. Whatever logic is at play here, the result is that in early summer we have a nice lake, but now, it's silt and stumps and ugly as a mud fence. Al-der water's gone.

The Gator-Ade Method

Day 29: This stage of weaving (winding the warp onto the beam) is really a two-person job, but not entirely impossible to do without a second pair of hands. After many years of rigging soup cans in a variety of unsatisfactory slings, I devised the "Gator-Ade Method" which provides even tension on the warp bundles. Any 16-24 ounce bottles (filled) would do as long as they have a neck around which yarn or cord can be tied securely. After wrapping the neck twice, tie a tight knot to prevent the cord from slipping over the top of the bottle. Leave the ends about six inches long and tie a second knot to make a loop big enough to accommodate two fingers and thumb. Draw a loop of all the warp threads of any given bundle through the yarn loop and clip a clothespin to it to keep it from sliding back through the yarn. When properly adjusted, the bottles should hang slightly above floor level, creating tension on the warp threads. Repeat the process all the way across the warp and then wind the available length onto the beam. Rehang the bottles and wind again, repeating until all the warp has been wound onto the beam. Necessity is the mother of invention, or as I put it, "Find a way or make one."

Warp Measure

Day 28: The first step in any weaving project (that is, after the pattern has been selected and warp length has been calculated) is to measure the warp threads. I use a warping board for this purpose, first marking off the length of thread with a piece of string wound over the appropriate pegs. Following the progression, the threads are kept in the order in which they will be strung on the loom. At various points during the winding process, I tie off the threads in bunches of 25 or 50, but always at the halfway point so that I can identify the center. When the warp is completely wound onto the board, I tie off the cross (the point at which the threads make an X) and then remove the warp from the board by chaining it, essentially crocheting the massed threads with my hand and arm serving as the "crochet hook." This prevents the threads from tangling when the warp is transferred to the loom.

Huernia Zebrina, Lifesaver Plant

Day 27: This is the time of year when I struggle to find new material for my daily posts. I find myself wandering pointlessly around the yard, scouting for fungi, patrolling for lichens, desperate for anything noteworthy. I probe the deep recesses of my craft shelves, try to capture cats being silly, but my searches only result in the frustration building when no new or exciting thing reveals itself. And then, where I least expect it, something winks at me. In this case, it was the "lifesaver" eye of Huernia zebrina, hidden among the Zygocacti on the back-bedroom window shelf. Not only did it have one open flower, another one is coming, and several had already dried out and dropped unnoticed, to my utter shame. This cactus makes very few demands of its keeper, just occasional watering and monitoring for mealybugs. Given those requisites, the reward of blooms will be forthcoming. Just don't forget to look!

Ramaria Araiospora Update

Day 26: Bigger and better! I took a lunchtime patrol to check on Ramaria araiospora and was pleased to see that the primary specimen had at least doubled in size and had not been found by collectors. The second smaller specimen had also "gained some weight" and was already bleaching out to orangey-pink, but even more exciting was the discovery of a third colony closer to the stream. This indicates that the mycorrhiza is healthy and spreading. I had been worried about the specimens in this group after someone cut them to the ground a few years back. I checked a second location where I had previously seen this species, but there was no evidence of growth in that area. This brilliantly-coloured Ramaria is known only from the Pacific Northwest and Kansas, although it's debated that the latter incidence is a separate species.

Ramalina Farinacea, "The Dotted Line"

Day 25: Ramalina farinacea's enchanting common name "the dotted line" refers to the numerous soralia found along the margins of its lobes. The second half of the Latin taxonomy should ring a bell in anyone who has ever eaten farina for breakfast, the cereal product marketed under the familiar brand name, "Cream of Wheat." My personal opinion is that Cream of Wheat is only marginally more edible than sand however it is served, and my experience in having been compelled to eat it on rare occasion makes "farinacea" a word I'm unlikely to forget. Funny how those associations are made. This thoroughly farinaceous Ramalina is relatively common in the Pacific Northwest. Some members of the genus have perforate, lacy lobe tips; they may or may not have grit.

Rag Rug Progress

Day 24: The rag rug is progressing, albeit slowly due to shoulder issues. It's roughly half-done, and I'm thinking I may need to make a harsher review of my old t-shirts in order to have enough fabric for a 2' x 3' size. Why is it so difficult to toss old clothing? Unless the design commemorates some special event, there can't be an emotional attachment at work. Is it just our basic instinct to hoard, or is it because we can't bear to trash something which has been a part of our lives for a few years? Thinking ahead, I sorted my old jeans a few days ago: over-stretched elastic waistbands, ragged cuffs, stained knees, "skinnier-me" pants, and set to cutting them into inch-and-a-quarter rug strips. But why had I kept them instead of sending them off to a thrift shop? Don't get me wrong. I'm glad I didn't throw them out. I'm just curious about the psychology which made me bag them and tuck them away in the closet. I don't have enough strips for another rug yet, but at least I have a head start on the most tedious part of creating one.

Child Under Twelve

Day 23: One of my mother's pet phrases is applicable here: "Never give a child under twelve a choice of more than one." I am having a horrible time deciding what to weave next. With the exception of the small reels of metallics in the lower left, all of these threads are cotton, mostly 8/2 weight. That means they're perfect for dish towels and tablecloths, but too light for placemats and too heavy for garments like shirts or blouses. The 8/2 weight is also my favourite for weaving. Should I make a rainbow check tablecloth in a simple twill? Should I do an overshot, colours floating above a creamy natural tabby? What about...oh, what about new cafe curtains for the kitchen window? Hmmmm...that thought is worth consideration. Child under twelve is going to have to settle on something instead of just batting the options around.

Spinning "In The Grease"

Day 22: There are various methods for preparing wool for spinning, but spinning "in the grease" follows the shortest route from sheep to wheel. First, the fleece is "skirted" to remove dags (fleece locks heavily matted with dung), second-cuts and other unusable portions and then the spinner may opt to spin directly from locks, or the wool can be "carded" to align the fibers preparatory to spinning. In the carding process, bits of moss and grass are picked out, matted tips opened, etc., ideally to have the wool as free of foreign matter and problem areas as possible. This is done without washing the raw wool. Many wool growers keep their sheep in canvas coats between shearings in order to keep the wool as clean as possible. Even so, when the fleece comes to the hands of the spinner, it will be greasy with natural lanolin and consequently, not precisely what one would term "pristine." Spinning "in the grease" (without washing) has its advantages. The wool fibers slip easily between the fingers, and that lovely lanolin conditions the spinner's hands. Nevertheless, it's a dirty job. These two images show the identical skein of handspun yarn before washing and after.

Totally Tubular Transplant

Day 21: Tube lichens are among my favourites. Why "tube?" The lobes of Hypogymnias are like little balloons, inflated, generally black on the bottom and pale green on top. One of the steps in differentiating them is to peel the two surfaces apart in order to examine the underside of the top layer (the medullary ceiling). Its colour can be helpful in distinguishing species. According to Bruce McCune, "Students of Hypogymnia are frequently seen popping open lobes to check for the white interiors of H. imshaugii versus H. inactiva" (the specimen in the photograph above). It is one of the most common Hypogymnias in the Pacific Northwest. Occasionally when I'm out hiking in an area where collection is allowed, a forlorn, fallen clump of lichen will follow me home like a stray kitten to be transplanted to a suitable substrate in my yard. I hope H. inactiva likes old cedar fencing.

Clavaria Vermicularis With Beetles

Day 20: Looking ever so much like they belong in a Chinese stiry-fry, Clavaria vermicularis is a fungus, not a vascular plant. I have been haunting the Model Forest trail at Pack Forest for the last several weeks, waiting for them to pop through the moss. There was no sign of them last week, but the recent rain encouraged their growth. It also seems to have brought out a few tiny, tiny beetles whose brownish shells make the Clavaria look even more like mung-bean sprouts. Also known as "Fairy Fingers," the coincidence of their fruiting around Hallowe'en-time makes me wonder why they weren't assigned the epithet, "Zombie Fingers" instead.

In Broad Daylight

Day 19: When Tip began racing from window to window, I figured the local stray cat was prowling the yard again. The neighbour feeds her occasionally, but I shoo her away, not willing to jeopardize my own cats' health by encouraging her to hang around. Even though mine are exclusively "indoor cats," there's still a risk of disease transmission. The neighbour doesn't get it; he has an old "outdoor" cat, and all things considered, I'd be willing to bet she's never been vaccinated for anything (my cats' shots are up to date). As my head turned to watch Tip leap onto the windowsill, I saw that we had another sort of visitor. Normally, the raccoons only come around at night. This one was out in broad daylight (well, Pacific-Northwest "broad daylight," i.e., the gloom in between the raindrops). Raccoons are just one of the reasons I decided that my kitties would live indoors. A raccoon can kill a cat easily. I don't like having the stray around, but being torn apart by a raccoon is not a fate I'd wish for her.