Tag: Old Ones

I’m an object of curiosity

While recognizably of poor quality (the video, not the gentleman who is the subject of the video), the attention The Wild grants Two-Legs always intrigues me.

And not just Coyote – as is the subject of this post – but all Old Ones focus on us when we’re around.

Survival, I’m sure, to many, and I doubt that’s the case here (meaning “in our yard”) as they don’t shy away from us often.

Such is not the case when our neighbors gather.

Then it’s hustle justle hustle get back into deep cover before they do something…

foolish.

But I’ve interacted with Two-Legs enough to know respect for one’s teachers is neither a universal nor a given.

Sigh.

 

The Old Ones Return

From early Feb 2022, The Old Ones return, and like most of us waking from a long slumber, they’re unsure. Shy, really.

It’s obvious they recognize me and know I’m not a threat.

Perhaps their concern is that they haven’t had a chance to put their makeup on, or do their hair.

You know, that “Come back after I’ve had my coffee” look? You’re still in your PJs, still have sleep in your eyes, don’t yet want to talk, might be coherent enough to listen to NPR but can’t actually find the radio yet although you might be clutching your mobile because you never really let go of it during the night.

Kind of makes you wish you were in The Wild, doesn’t it?

No need for mobiles there. Grunt or a groan’s as good as a snarl or a bark with them.

 

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 Josefson, Ann Christine 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.

A Different One Sees the Moon

Another video from the deep of a southern New Hampshire winter and the raccoons are at it.

This is both a good and an ungood thing.

Good – there’s food for them. Ungood – they shouldn’t be out in this weather. They should be doing the Raccoon equivalent of hibernating. I mentioned in The Bluebirds of Keith Jarrett that signals seemed a bit off.

WinterMan walked through (as mentioned in Enjoying a Little Opie Butt) and it seemed some signals were still catching up.

Truth is, we do see raccoon in winters. Mild winters. Not deep, snow heavy winters. They don’t maneuver well in deep snow.

And you haven’t lived until you see a pair of raccoons ice-dancing across a frozen pond.

I mention in this video about another raccoon. There was a video. It was all black. Next time I’ll wait until the lights are on.

But many raccoons came out on this night. Perhaps to sing praises to The Moon.

We did.

Wouldn’t you?

 

Oaps Likes Grand Funk

We are often intrigued by The Wild‘s musical tastes.

It is eclectic to say the least.

And it would be one thing if musical preferences followed some kind of Old One differentiation, you know?

Something like “All raccoons prefer Bach, all Opossum prefer modern jazz, skunk are heavily into acid rock (thank goodness they’re not!), …”

You know, some kind of differentiator so we could see who’s come to visit and put on something to suit their musical tastes.

No such luck.

Each’s musical leanings are as individuated as, well, as they are.

Food.

That seems to be the commonality.

Not only across species, but individuals, as well.

Set out a good table and they’ll gather.

It’s a good thing.