Turkey, according to many traditions, is a sign of abundance. Of wealth (of spirit, of person, of being. Not necessarily of pocket).
Imagine our wealth upon seeing this glorious flock parade into our yard.
And of course, one must reward wealth with wealth, which is to say, share one’s abundance (and this time, yes, it can be of pocket).
Turkeys know there is safety here. Good, that, as on the far side of our woods – indeed, tearing into it – is some construction. New multi-family housing units.
“New multi-family housing units.”
Isn’t that a wonderfully sterile way to phrase it?
Let them roost in trees as the turkeys do, I say.
At least then all would have an even chance.
So much of mankind’s recent history with The Wild has been one of domination. We are Nature’s experiment with big brains.
You’d think we’d know better.
It always happens.
There’s always got to be one who keeps his eye on you.
Making sure you’re not getting away with anything.
There’s always got to be one who spoils the fun because they make sure nothing happens.
In this case, a Tom.
And a young one, too.
Probably doing it to impress the ladies.
That’s how Toms are.
Raccoons can be territorial. Especially around kits and food.
We have lots of raccoons and lots of kits.
We promote peaceful dining by putting out enough food for everyone.
The challenge to this rationale is simple; the more food, the more raccoons. The more raccoons, the more food.
Can you say “cycle”?
We’ve had as many as nineteen racoons visiting us at once. It might have been more. A lot.
Officially, we’d call it “a lot.”
All those “a lot of raccoons” got along fine. We had five piles of food distributed a few yards from each other. The various families got along well. It reminded me of that scene in The Godfather where the Five Families got together to discuss business.
Makes me wonder which of the raccoons in our yard is Marlon Brando.
I am five months behind in posting videos. This video is from mid-November 2020. Covid raged for nine months officially, about a year unofficially.
We’ve never been social. Friendly, yes. Social, no.
Except with The Wild.
One can easily be social with The Wild. Live near it, you have no choice.
Friendly? That’s another issue.
We may like to believe Nature is friendly. People who believe such have never spent time in it. Deeply in it.
I enjoy Nature. Love it, is probably more accurate. I do what I can to protect it.
And I know Nature is the ultimate egalitarian. It favors no one. You might make a case for Nature favoring the strong but one must ask “How are we defining strength?”
Or, in this case on this day, lots of beaks?
I mentioned last week coyote are cautious.
This week’s offering is a continuation, if you will, shot a few moments later in the evening.
What stood out here is the coyote gazing into the sky periodically and shying away. There were no astronomical oddities that night; no comets, no meteors, no blinding conjunctions.
What caused him to look up so often?
It reminded me of a story I read long, long ago. Basically, there was a killer asteroid coming at the earth. Simultaneous with the discovery of this asteroid, cetaceans as an order being singing a unified song. Some group studying whale song was close to decoding their language. Whale ancestors, it was known, survived the last ELE.
The uptake in song is part of their race memory and translates to “Lords of the Sky, Let Us Live.”
Wish I could track down that story and reread it. I remember it gave me chills back then.