The Day It Snowed Starlings

More like a flurry.

The Wild comes to our door often.

We believe we are blessed It finds comfort here, knows Its children can rest.

Often passing flocks come to sup, to dine, to repose and gather themselves for their further journeys.

We once had a flock of ducks come to our feeders in a heavy snowfall. We went out with baskets of sliced apples, raisins, chunks of bread.

We considered coffee.

They thanked us and demurred.

Somedays it shows starlings.

As noted above, we are blessed.

 

Samuel Bothers Boo

Sometimes our indoor children have discussions with our outdoor guests.

Most times they tolerate each other.

Ghost, our indoor cat, barely gives a nod when someone shows up.

Boo lets us know when various Old Ones are about.

He sometimes whines at the door. Translation, “The raccoons are here.”

Or he’ll sit and stare out a window. Translation, “The turkeys are here.”

A low growl. “We have an opossum visiting.”

And then there’s the huff. Sometimes it’s a huff with a bounce on his front feet. Usually means something doglike is on “his” turf.

Quite territorial, he.

Fortunately, our canid wild isn’t quite as territorial as he.

As you can see here, Samuel the Coyote basically says, “Yeah, okay. A dog. Sheesh. Chill, Bro. Yo! Two-Legs! Want to put a muzzle on that inhospitable pup of yours?”

Boo has learned not to be so challenging.

We go out and see to our guests, then promptly come back in and give both him and Ghost treats.

Lets them know these Old Ones are our guests. There are rewards for treating them with respect.

Not sure how to teach Two-Legs the same thing, though.

Suggestions, anyone?

 

Early March Raccooning

Last week I shared Turkeys on the mating prowl in Two and a Half Toms. We continue the theme of Spring awakenings with today’s early March raccooning.

In early Spring all the Sleepers waken. Most are familiar with Bear. We have two, Horace and Lucien, who parade and not recently. Raccoons are not true sleepers, they do not hibernate, but they will go into prolonged sleep states to conserve energy. The pack it on before the snows hit and when they do rouse, they are hungry.

Case in point, these lovelies.

They come out in groups while remaining individuals. Kind of like everybody going to the club then going their separate ways in the hopes of nocturnal success.

I can write things like that because, in my younger days, I was among them.

No, not raccoons, clubbers.

Sometimes my early life’s behaviors disgust me.

But they do make good story fodder.

Enjoy.

 

The 20# Starling

Sometimes things get confusing.

Sometimes The Old Ones want to pull a foolie on Two-Legs.

Case in point, The Twenty Pound Starling.

Yes, I know. It looks like a Turkey.

That’s how clever they are. They’re traveling incognito.

When I was a kid, I use to think “cognito” was a country or town some place. “They’re traveling in Cognito.” “They’re vacationing in Paris.” That kind of thing.

Same logic applies to “They’re voting inabsentia.” I’d ask, “Where’s Absentia and how come they can’t vote here in town?”

I was terrified when we went on vacations. I’d repeatedly ask Dad where we were going and how we were going to get there, maps in my hands, stuffed in my pockets, cluttering the dash, the floor, the backseat.

Had to make sure we weren’t going through Effigy.

That’s where they burned people.

You know, “They burned him in effigy.”

Well, stay the hell away from that town!

So it is with The Wild. They’d never burn us, so no worries about Effigy, but Cognito and Absentia?

They hang out there, I’m told.

Practicing their Twenty Pound Starling disguises.

 

The Gathering Hordes (of Raccoons)

Humans are in a pandemic as I write this.

Covid-19. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?

Yet the Old Ones still gather daily and nightly in our yard.

I’ve often fretted about making offerings to The Old Ones. I make sure I offer enough to supplement, not enough to fulfill. I want them to find food their normal ways and not grow dependent. I worry what might happen to them once I pass.

Who will care for them?

I forget that they are Old Ones. They have survived human pestilence save humans being pestilence towards them.

I know certain diseases have ravaged wildlife.

I wonder if they know a disease is affecting Two-Legged life, or do they not care. Do they say amongst themselves, “They are Two-Legs. We were here before them, we will be here after them.”

I wonder how long the current pandemic will last. Or will it decimate Two-Legged life? Were the survivalists correct all along? If you’ve ever read Earth Abides or The Stand, you know the next chapter of humanity may not be all that pleasant.

And still, the Old Ones gather.

I’m sure they will after we’re gone.

The question is, how will they remember us.

So I’ll ask; how do you want to be remembered? Enter a comment. I’d like to know.