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.
“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.
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 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.
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.
In the cool of the night…
(feel a need to due homage to Sidney Poitier and Rod Steiger here)
In the cool of the night, the Opossums come to dine.
Don’t remember seeing an Opossum during the day. Unless it was deep in the woods, heavily in shadow, and usually peeking out from underneath something.
Opossums are skittish at the best of times. We’ve seen them dining with raccoons and, the moment some raccoon gets a tad too close, you can hear Opossum say, “Beware my piercing teeth.”
That’s their own name for themselves, by the way.
In OriOrinda, the Opossums’ native tongue, their name translates to “Beware my piercing teeth.”
Good to know, that.
Good to know.
Recorded in early November 2021, our raccoons prepare for winter.
I wanted to write something witty and frivolous at this point.
As I type this, it is late May 2022 and so much of our environment has changed. Not just locally but in the world.
I watched Ricky Gervais‘ Supernature and Humanity Netflix shows last night. I admire him immensely, perhaps more so when I don’t find him funny. Sometimes he skates a thin edge (to me). I appreciate his humor and recognize (as he admits) there’s a difference between the subject and the target, the content and the context of his jokes.
I also recognize sometimes it’s difficult to see the two as separate, unique, and distinct.
Gervais is an active supporter of many things I support.
I wonder what he’d have to say about my work with raccoons and various other Old Ones.