One successful jump proves very little.
Even several short jumps inside a controlled enclosure aren't the same as living outside.
A wild raccoon doesn't get carefully spaced rehabilitation logs.
Surfaces are uneven.
Branches move.
Bark can be wet.
Distances vary.
A raccoon may need to descend quickly or change direction without warning.
And if something frightening appears, there is no time to protect an old injury.
Rowan's body has to respond.
That's why we watch what happens after activity as carefully as the activity itself.
Does his gait remain even?
Does he begin protecting the injured side after repeated climbing?
Does the leg fatigue?
Does his balance deteriorate?
Does he hesitate to use it later?
So far, the answers have been encouraging.
Rowan's endurance is increasing.
His movement is becoming more symmetrical.
The short jumps that initially required obvious concentration are beginning to look spontaneous.
Sometimes he climbs onto a log and jumps to another before anyone watching has time to anticipate it.
That is exactly what we want.
He shouldn't have to consciously protect the leg forever.
Normal movement needs to become normal again.
Another part of Rowan has been recovering too.
His wildness.
During the earliest stage of treatment, he had little choice about tolerating necessary care.
Now he has plenty of choices.
And increasingly, he chooses not to be near us.
When someone enters his area, Rowan often moves toward cover.
If he is on a structure, he may climb away rather than remain exposed.
He watches.
Waits.
Then resumes exploring after the person leaves.
We don't want to undo that caution.
Young raccoons can become habituated to people during prolonged rehabilitation if human interaction isn't managed carefully.
Rowan isn't supposed to leave our care looking for the people who fed him.
He's supposed to leave knowing how to take care of himself.
As his need for direct treatment decreased, unnecessary contact decreased too.
Food became something to find and manipulate.