Local wildlife

One of the painful things about leaving my old house was that I was leaving the wildlife behind. I had so many geese and crow friends, not to mention squirrels and groundhogs and all sorts of other critters. I hope someone takes care of them now that I'm gone.

As soon as I got to the new place, I scouted out the terrain and I'm happy to report that -- due to the miracle of peanuts -- I've established a great relationship with the local crows. Already, they wait for me on a particular fence at about noon. They know I'm coming. It's so sweet to see five or six crows waiting all in a row. It's hot outside today and I might have skipped my walk but I had to feed the crows. I mean, how could they possibly get by without me? So I trotted out into the breezeless humidity and suffered for my pals. One treat: on the way back, they followed me and settled into the tree right outside my house. From there, they serenaded me with friendly caws. I find crows always want to give back. They're actually sweet. (I know, I know; they murder little birds. But that's what they're supposed to do.)

Moving right along, I've also made friends with a horse. Okay, okay, so horses aren't exactly "wildlife". But they're so new to me, they may as well be. This horse is hurt with a muscle sprain and has to spend her days in a round, covered pen that has a radius of about 20 feet. She has room to pace, it's cool in there, and there are two windows she can stick her head out of, which she does all the time in an attempt to find people to play with.

The first time I saw her I could tell she wanted company. And did she! This is the huggiest horse ever. I'm 6'5", so I'm way up there, right around a horse's head. This makes it especially nice to hug with her. And all right, so it's me that's doing all the hugging. But she presses back with her head and nuzzles it into my chest and stomach. And at some point, she does something very friendly -- she snurfles my hand! I don't know what else to call it. She kind of puts my hand in her mouth, but not where her teeth are. She lays her huge wet lips over my hand and slobbers on it in a very friendly way. It's so sweet! I guess it's kind of like when dogs lick your hand. Have you ever had a horse snurfle your hand? It's not to be missed.

[PS: A horse trainer told me this is fine but you never want to stick your fingers directly into the mouth. Apparently, the horse might bite you without meaning to. (Or it might want to; there's always that.) She said "lips are fine". And they are!]

That's kind of it, so far. I'm sure I'll make more friends out there but this is a great start. I had no idea what I was missing by living in Manhattan most of my life. Concrete ain't it, kid.

Speaking of Crow

I didn't have time to append a Crow story to my recent post that showed his image alongside a blue heron (it's a few posts below this one). But now I do have the time, so here you go.

Crow, for the uninitiated, is my friend in the yard. He's a male crow who has a mate and two offspring. The four travel in loose circles together and I feed them every day. Lotsa peanuts. Crows (and just about every other creature that passes through my yard) adore peanuts. I guess I've been feeding him for about three or four years. I'm sure he still murders innocent little birds for food, but he sure does enjoy those peanuts. Gotta have a balanced diet, you know. And crows are predators. I can't blame him for his murderous ways. It's just what crows do.

Anyway, when I leave the house, Crow often follows me. As soon as I exit the door, he flies overhead in a big, showy swoop and calls down to me. He follows me as I walk, flying to the nearest tree. And all the while, he caws sweet nothings to me. This goes on for as long as I'm out there, including for 20-minute walks. Crow always stays by my side. (This amazes my sister, who walks with me.)

Recently, Crow added something to his repertoire. The new trick involves his knowledge of when I'm heading for the mailbox. I guess the time of day tells him that. The mailbox is a ways from my house, so the cawing and his habit of visiting nearby trees goes on for a bit. But here's the new behavior. He flies to the mailbox when I'm still 100 yards away, and sits on the ground at the end of the driveway, right beside the mailbox. His body is pointed my way and he simply stares at me.

When I get close, Crow flies away. Even after years of me being nice to him, he doesn't fully trust me. He'd never let me get too close. Nor does he let me take his photo (very often, anyway). If you point a device at wild animals, they all seem to think it's a gun. I've seen this behavior from many species. You can look at them, but don't point anything at them. They're not stupid, despite what people think. They seem to suspect that any human device is a gun. I assume they've had extensive experience with humans shooting at them.

Crow's antics are cute. I assume he does these things to recognize me for all my help. In his crow head, he thinks this is an appropriate way to say thanks. And I guess it is, since I enjoy it very much.

Animals are so much smarter than we think. It kills me that people don't get that.

Gotta walk

Since I sit in a chair all damn day, I've decided to take up walking. It means going out of the house (shudder) but a boy's gotta do what a boy's gotta do. I even bought a pedometer; I must be serious.

Anyway, this is really a post about my friend, Crow. I've been feeding a family of four crows for several years. I toss out endless peanuts, pleasing not only Crow and his family, but the local squirrels. In any case, when I go for a walk the four crows follow me.

They fly overhead and call down to me, and alight on trees and houses near my path. The calls sound friendly, not like the usual "caw" you expect from a crow. And when I get back to my house, they fly into the tree that hangs overhead. To reward their faithfulness, I again toss out a bunch of peanuts and they hungrily gobble them up.

Today I wondered if Crow would do a Lassie if something happened to me. If I was lying on the ground motionless near the edge of the forest, would Crow fly back to my house and fetch my sister? Crows are awfully smart. Who knows?

Okay, okay. If Crow found me on the ground, he'd sit on my chin and peck out my eyes. Still, I just love Crow!

Friends in the yard

Squirrel and peanut. Match.

It's fun to walk around in my yard. Some of the creatures are too timid to be friendly, but I've definitely got a few pals out there. The entire flock of geese, about 75 or so at the moment, know me in the sense that they won't run from me. But only a few are actually pals. Remember the little one who followed me everywhere I went? I wrote about her last spring. She grew up, but never stopped that behavior. So I have a companion goose. It's fun. And of course, there's Milo, the finest goose who ever lived -- but I digress. This isn't a goose post. It's about squirrels.

There are five or six squirrels living on the property and I'm friendly with all of them. It's easy to make friends with a squirrel: just offer him a peanut. I do this all the time so the squirrels like and trust me. They'd never run away when they see me. But one thing they do intrigues me.

When I encounter one of them during a walk, he'll stop and stand on his hind legs, facing me. This position is maintained for about 30 seconds and then he continues on his way. This happens all the time. I swear they're telling me, "Thanks for the peanuts, big guy." I can see it in their stance: this is an expression of gratitude.

PS -- Squirrel facial expressions are complex and amazingly cute. I wish I could take a photo of my main squirrel friend but he's wary of cameras -- he's probably seen too many guns. We humans can be dangerous critters. Anyway, they're very cool. Anyone else made friends with a squirrel?

Never underestimate the allure of the peanut

Irresistible.

I do believe the last squirrel is out of the attic. Hoorah! Since I mentioned my squirrel problem here the other day, I thought I'd report back.

Setting three bug bombs off in the attic was a waste of time (and somewhat evil, seen in retrospect). We thought we scared them out so we closed up all the holes. Dum-te-dum-tum. No go. The squirrels stayed up there throughout the whole thing. I find this shocking but that's what happened.

So then I had dog knows how many squirrels penned up in my attic, breathing horrible gas fumes. In other words, the situation was even worse. Luckily, a friend of my sister's lent me a squirrel trap. I put some peanuts, still in their shells, into the trap and left it on top of a duct (that looked fun to walk on, if you were a squirrel).

Worked like a charm. Within a matter of hours, I trapped four squirrels (one at a time) and let them loose outside. There were three babies and one adult and all seemed fine despite the bug bombs. Phew. I'm glad for that.

In all, it was so easy that I'm not worried about any future squirrel-tenants. I'll just lure them into the pain-free trap with the food of the gods: peanuts. Never underestimate the power of a peanut.