Squirrel Nutkin

There's been a lot of interesting action in the animal kingdom recently. That is, our backyard. I don't know whether it's because the plantings have attracted the birds and the bees to the flowers and the trees, or if it's the moon up above or a thing called love. I may be thinking in song lyrics, but there's been a whole lot of fluttering in and out. I'm pretty sure there's been some bee sex. I'm all for nature, but let's not get too wild. 

Everyone seems to have an exciting animal story. If you tell someone about the time a mysterious creature made thumping noises in your bedroom, your friend Eliza will one-up you with her gruesome tale of sticking a bare foot into Uggs that were full of dead, baby mice. If you go on to explain that said animal was jammed between some furniture and the wall, and your extremely intelligent husband (who seems to know everything) was unable to identify it, Stacey will talk about the time she was at her friend's country house and there was a bird nest in the ceiling fan. The ceiling fan that they unwittingly turned on and feathers started flying. It kind of takes away from my story of jumping naked on the bed begging Eric to call the police about the creature.

After explaining that the thing had claws and feathers and looked prehistoric, Eric finally determined it was actually a very stupid (is there any other kind) dove who must have flown in earlier, hit the wall and fallen down a narrow space where it was then upside down. By then I'd had enough excitement for one night. I insisted we sleep downstairs and deal with the bird in the morning. The next day the dove appeared to be toes up, but when the bird rescuer got him into a plastic bag he started to flap his wings. By the time he was released outside he didn't look too bad and actually flew away. I guess he didn't get very far, because later on I noticed a lot of feathers on the driveway. I'm afraid a neighbor cat got him in the end. 

You really don't want to have the best animal story, because you most likely wouldn't be here to tell it. If you are eaten by a bear, it becomes someone else's story. We know a guy who had a massive chomp taken out of his leg by a shark while surfing. He lived to tell the tale and he's been riding that wave ever since. Even his mother wrote a book about it. I guess the moral is, get close, but not too close.
 
I don't understand why we're seeing such different species now. In twenty-seven years in this house I have never seen or heard a coyote. Now you can hear them howl in the distance every night. In the last couple years we've had a massive influx of nasty, black crows. Is there any other kind? They come around in flocks of fifty at a time. We have always had a wonderful mix of birds including shorebirds. Snowy egrets, seagulls, honking canada geese all fly over. Sweet, little hummingbirds feast on the lavender while I water in the evenings. And then, there are the blue jays. Territorial and striking, they're the same as ever. All this talk of birds- I've turned into my grandparents. 

What I didn't expect in the garden was the rodent-bird intersection. I can deal with a harmless, little snake, but I can't handle rats. Even outside rats. I recently saw one run behind the fountain near the back step. Time for somebody to get out the traps. Somebody who is not me. This is where I truly see the benefit of marriage. Some jobs take a real man. One rat quickly succumbed to our evil plan. The rat killer got rid of him and slyly placed another trap under the back step. He kept checking and every time he looked there was still no rat. Then there was no rat trap. Eric accused me of moving it. As if. So what DID happen to the rat trap? I have an image of a raccoon running around with it stuck to its snout.

Then came the mice. I was watering the tomatoes and a little mouse scurried out. Acch. I jumped a foot. Next time it happened again. That little sucker was fearless, sauntering all over in broad daylight. What to do now? Go play tennis - the answer to everything. When we returned our resident blue jay was under the chaise lounge. Eating a mouse. That answers that. Or so we thought. Then we saw another mouse. They say they're never really alone. Apparently so. The next afternoon I was reading in the garden when the jay swooped in right by the tomatoes and flew off with the mouse in its mouth. A carnivorous blue jay? The garden was becoming a killing field. One more eviscerated mouse carcass later and all was quiet on the rodent front. Until Squirrel Nutkin. 

Yet another new species to our garden, we now have a squirrel. I thought rats were taking all the bites out of the dropped pears, but I caught Squirrel Nutkin in the act. I know he's really a rat with a tail, but this guy is quite cute. I left the old sunflower heads for the birds to eat and who was out there, filling his little pouches? Like a character straight out of a Beatrix Potter children's story, he's a classic with his curly tail and bright, shiny eyes. I give up on the yard. Winter is coming. The critters can have it, but in spring, it's mine again