No Breakdancing for Samuel

At least we think it’s Samuel.

Could be Elmer, but probably Samuel.

In any case, a healthy fellow with the exception of a bad hip.

We’ve noticed the bad hip before, not sure where he got it.

No obvious bullet wounds, nor any obvious scars from encountering inhospitable others in The Wild.

Such would be a rare occurrence, though. Especially around us as we tend towards being generous.

Could be a simple mishap, a misstep. Could be he was practicing a dance step and some Latin rhythm threw him.

No breakdancing for Samuel for a while, I guess.

 

Reasonably Cautious Raccoons

I mentioned last week the joy of dining with friends.

This week we continue that theme with a note of caution.

Behold some reasonably cautious raccoons.

Reasonably cautious because in addition to Opossum, Skunk, Owls, and assorted other fine citizens, we have a family of Coyote who visit.

We don’t mind them. They’re quite beautiful and gracious creatures.

Chatty, in fact.

And they love a good gnosh.

We simply endeavor to ensure their gnosh, while they share our space, isn’t someone else coming by for a little gnosh.

(no one likes it when the kids fight at the table…)

 

The Coyotes Are Celebrating now on Carmina

Entering Lindisfarne (2016) by Clarabelle Miray Fields

 
Before anything else, my deep thanks to Ann Christine Tabaka (aka @TabakaChris and Irene Søde Josefsen for helping me with my crafting and Søde for encouraging me to write poetry.

I’ve mentioned several times I don’t consider myself a poet. It is one of the most challenging forms to me, especially when I write something and am told it doesn’t meet any poetry standards.

“Well, I didn’t know such existed. Forgive me for attempting anything new.”

I shared my poetry with Søde and she immediately wanted to know where I’m published.

“Umm…I’m not.”

“Then get published!” she cried, and I was off…

…to Ann Christine with the said The Coyotes Are Celebrating and asking how to make it better.

“It’s pretty good as is. I wouldn’t change much.”

And she didn’t. And it got published. And Hooray!

 
You can read The Coyotes Are Celebrating in Carmina’s Sept 2022 issue. It also appears early in this blog’s history here.
A always, let me know what you think, and thanks.

Hyacinthe (Again)

Last week I wrote about Samuel, the grand old man of our local coyote pack. This week, Hyacinthe, who (interestingly) first entered out lives about the same time Samuel did.

Wild raccoons have shorter lifespans than coyote and, being open to the Universe, I appreciate this is probably her last season with us.

I’ve often wondered where The Wild go to pass.

Is there a Raccoon Graveyard somewhere in the woods behind our house I’ve never found?

When Samuel walks the Blue Path, will I find his trail marks in the grass and come upon him deeply sleeping never to wake in this world again?

Our world shrinks…exponentially? Definitely geometrically. Humans have affected the environment far more than via an arithmetic progression, me thinks.

As our world shrinks, so does theirs, only more so.

Human – Two-Legs – extinct species only slightly quicker than we extinct ourselves.

And here in the first quarter of the 21st century, I’ve noticed we’re damn good at it.

 

Samuel (Again)

And finally, the patriarch of our local clan, Samuel. Samuel visits us fairly often and usually remains offscreen, as noted in Feasting Raccoons and an Offscreen Samuel and More Feasting Raccoons and Samuel Still Offscreen.

Samuel’s been with us for several years now. In the ways of Coyote, he’s a grand old man.

Which saddens me. Us. More me than us.

Canis has been my friend since childhood. I see our current OverLord, Boo, aging and know he, like all things good and bad, will be no more. In this reality, anyway.

We use to keep things alive through stories around a campfire, drawings on cave walls, StoryTellers and StoryKeepers, Traveling Minstrels, Town Criers, through print and now to what can be held in the palm of one’s hand.

But not quite.

I shake my head when I see people with their mobiles practically glued to their palms.

What can be so important?

And many people, especially more now than ever before, have little to no inner lives.

I remember listening to a writer offer she wasn’t introspective at all when asked a question regarding her thoughts on something.

My first thought was “No wonder your characters are so shallow.”

I will mourn when Samuel passes. When Boo passes.

And I wonder, who will mourn my passing? Susan’s?

Will the Universe slow for a moment? Will the stars dim?

No.

Except for those in true friends’ hearts.