Category: WildLife

Samuel Bothers Boo

Sometimes our indoor children have discussions with our outdoor guests.

Most times they tolerate each other.

Ghost, our indoor cat, barely gives a nod when someone shows up.

Boo lets us know when various Old Ones are about.

He sometimes whines at the door. Translation, “The raccoons are here.”

Or he’ll sit and stare out a window. Translation, “The turkeys are here.”

A low growl. “We have an opossum visiting.”

And then there’s the huff. Sometimes it’s a huff with a bounce on his front feet. Usually means something doglike is on “his” turf.

Quite territorial, he.

Fortunately, our canid wild isn’t quite as territorial as he.

As you can see here, Samuel the Coyote basically says, “Yeah, okay. A dog. Sheesh. Chill, Bro. Yo! Two-Legs! Want to put a muzzle on that inhospitable pup of yours?”

Boo has learned not to be so challenging.

We go out and see to our guests, then promptly come back in and give both him and Ghost treats.

Lets them know these Old Ones are our guests. There are rewards for treating them with respect.

Not sure how to teach Two-Legs the same thing, though.

Suggestions, anyone?

 

Early March Raccooning

Last week I shared Turkeys on the mating prowl in Two and a Half Toms. We continue the theme of Spring awakenings with today’s early March raccooning.

In early Spring all the Sleepers waken. Most are familiar with Bear. We have two, Horace and Lucien, who parade and not recently. Raccoons are not true sleepers, they do not hibernate, but they will go into prolonged sleep states to conserve energy. The pack it on before the snows hit and when they do rouse, they are hungry.

Case in point, these lovelies.

They come out in groups while remaining individuals. Kind of like everybody going to the club then going their separate ways in the hopes of nocturnal success.

I can write things like that because, in my younger days, I was among them.

No, not raccoons, clubbers.

Sometimes my early life’s behaviors disgust me.

But they do make good story fodder.

Enjoy.

 

Two and a Half Toms

Ah, Spring is in the air. Courtship has begun.

And as every red-blooded american turkey knows, that means it’s time to strut.

Yeah, ain’t nothing better than a good strut by the ladies, letting ’em know you’re there, you’ve arrived, you’re all that and more, you’re It!

Glorious, in’t it? All that manhood, the sheer volume of masculinity, makes one proud it’s happenin’ in one’s own backyard.

Turkeys aren’t particular where they strut. Down the street, in the office, at the coffee shop, getting groceries, don’t matter.

If they think there’s a womans near by, they gotta strut.

Don’t even matter if she’s available or not ’cause all the womens be available when you got a good strut.

Have at it, gents.

And do notice the women don’t care. Sometimes I wonder if women see men as a necessary evil. As Sandy Olafssen says in Empty Sky, “…someone who won’t open his mouth and won’t get a fixation and will just do his job and get out before morning.”

I suspect ladies are alike everywhere in this, truth be told.

And, as always, enjoy.

 

Turkeys, NPR, and Friday Morning Coffee

I mentioned our Turkeys penchant for NPR and coffee in Turkeys, NPR, and Morning Coffee.

Well, they’re at it again.

Many of the same turkeys. Some new ones. This was videoed in Feb of this year. Currently we’ve had a lone Tom visit. The hens have, we’re hoping, been staying on their eggs. We further hope most if not all the eggs have hatched and we’ll soon see turklets.

You haven’t lived until you’ve seen a bunch of hens corralling an even larger bunch of turklets.

Turklets are lighter and get airborne more easily.

Unfortunately, they haven’t quite mastered powered flight.

They’ll travel 5-10 feet then you’ll hear an awkward BWAACK! followed by a crashing turklet. Often into a hen or another turklet.

They get up, unhurt.

But you should see the look on their face.

So ashamed.

Meanwhile, Turkeys, NPR, and Friday morning coffee.

Enjoy.

 

The 20# Starling

Sometimes things get confusing.

Sometimes The Old Ones want to pull a foolie on Two-Legs.

Case in point, The Twenty Pound Starling.

Yes, I know. It looks like a Turkey.

That’s how clever they are. They’re traveling incognito.

When I was a kid, I use to think “cognito” was a country or town some place. “They’re traveling in Cognito.” “They’re vacationing in Paris.” That kind of thing.

Same logic applies to “They’re voting inabsentia.” I’d ask, “Where’s Absentia and how come they can’t vote here in town?”

I was terrified when we went on vacations. I’d repeatedly ask Dad where we were going and how we were going to get there, maps in my hands, stuffed in my pockets, cluttering the dash, the floor, the backseat.

Had to make sure we weren’t going through Effigy.

That’s where they burned people.

You know, “They burned him in effigy.”

Well, stay the hell away from that town!

So it is with The Wild. They’d never burn us, so no worries about Effigy, but Cognito and Absentia?

They hang out there, I’m told.

Practicing their Twenty Pound Starling disguises.