Quite the Life (and all in Times New Roman 10pt!)
I wrote in The Bluebirds of Keith Jarrett about The Wild seeming not to signal its children to move on.
Four days later, our area looked like this:
Needless to say, migratables had migrated quickly.
Our hope is we provided fuel for their flights.
Meanwhile, two days after WinterMan walked through our backyard, an Opossum sallied forth.
I’ve always wondered why nothing ever sallies fifth. Or third. It’d be great if they medaled at least once, wouldn’t it?
Early Jan 2022 we saw bluebirds at our feeders.
Genuine bluebirds.
What’s fascinating about this is they should have migrated by now.
Whatever signals The Wild gives its children it is time to move, it wasn’t given this year.
At least not for these bluebirds.
Which, of course, causes us multiple levels of concern. Most such concerns come down to “What’s happening to The Wild?”
It is both foolish and human to suggest The Wild is under attack. Or massively naive.
Take your pick.
The Wild is not just what’s out behind our backyard, it’s what’s is. If I had to, I’d offer The Wild is the face the Universe shows us.
So offering “The Wild is under attack” is tantamount to suggesting the universe is under threat.
I may write science fiction, but come on. Let’s be serious for a minute.
Okay, you could say the Universe is under attack in The Inheritors, but it’s not so much under attack as it is adjusting to a change in its parameters, much like any living thing will adjust its functioning to deal with some unpleasantness.
Never doubt the Universe is a living organism.
Just be glad it’s neither spiteful nor plotting.
We wouldn’t stand a chance.
Though many may try.
Shows just how foolish, human, and naive we can be, doesn’t it?
I mentioned in Oaps Likes Grand Funk how intrigued we are by The Wild‘s musical tastes.
Example: Last night’s Opossum banged along with Grand Funk. Today, it’s Keith Jarrett.
And, hey. Who wouldn’t cruise with Keith Jarrett, right?
Especially when Susan‘s offering commentary…
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.
Sometimes The Wild isn’t kind.
It’s not so much a matter of kindness as it is…well, it is what it is.
We’ve known Hecate for quite a while in raccoon years. This Hecate, anyway. There have been others, long gone and passed into memory.
“Hecate” seems to be a favored name among them. Perhaps a family name.
We think “family” because raccoons share traits through generations. Some like to sit on their butt, some like to dunk their food, some like to hold a conversation, some like to nibble toes, …
Okay, that last part, the toe nibbling, usually only when they’re kits.
This time Hecate returned to us with a significant chunk of fur missing from her back. The missing piece had a distinct “V” shape.
I can’t imagine what caused it. An animal bite wouldn’t leave such a mark, and my mind goes to something man-made.
Only humans could be so cruel to The Wild.
After all, have you noticed how cruel we are to ourselves and each other?