Fair. There is a reason I don't like mockingbirds...but these furry creatures are adorable and I have yet to ever see one in my neighborhood. Kind of shocking.
True raccoon story.
'Bout 14-15 years ago, the Ex Mrs. Killbilly and I, with some friends, were dining on the patio deck of a place called El Arroyo in Dallas. Greenville Ave at Walnut Hill, across from the hospital, if you happen to know the area.
Anyway, the deck was quite elevated - maybe a 15-20 foot drop to this ditch below, fed by a drainage pipe that ran under the street. In this pipe/ditch area lived a family of bobcat-sized raccoons. The adorable little monsters used to climb up on the patio fairly regularly searching for dropped chips and other bits of food - this was frequent enough that the waitstaff kept a couple of brooms used to herd the raccoons off the deck and back down to the ditch. People would throw chips down there because they're cute little suckers and they're pretty damned smart. And mostly they stayed below because it was easier for them to get food thrown than to scale the deck like a host of siege knights.
So, we're working our way through a plate of nachos and beers one night when all of a sudden the Ex begins to shriek and she vaults straight-up in the booth. I look to my right and there's this tiny, furry fist reaching up over the edge of her seat, attempting to pilfer a chip she'd dropped. The tiny little fist belonged to a 35-pound raccoon which had inadvertently grabbed her ass (you can totally say ass here) wanting only a chip.
She hops out of the booth, laughing now, because, let's face it, while a shrieking woman in a bar on Greenville ave isn't all that unusual, having it caused by a...not-rodent with the thievery skills of David Niven (I'll let you youngsters look that one up) was more than worthy of a chuckle.
I look down at the raccoon, who looks more bored and annoyed than anything else, clinging to the pilings that made up the deck. "Piss off," I say, waving my hand, but not too close to get scratched or bit. "Go away! Yah! Shoo!" making all the stupid gestures that humans are supposed to make and which raccoons find about as entertaining as lint.
It stares at me for a second or two - just a bit too long. Then it backs slowly down the deck. It returns to a group of them (I don't know the collective noun for raccoons) and I swear to you - they ALL simultaneously look back up at ME and stare. Sort of a, "This isn't over, squishy biped. Not by a long shot." Then they all waddle back to the pipe.
Every once in a while, I wonder if they're going to come for me...
They don't fear us. At all.
I can barely eat Chicken this week after seeing one fall off a truck and get hit by a car on the highway. 
Is my redneck showing?
Best story ever!