Category: WIld Life Guests

Summer…What’s not to love…finding a patch of  green grass in the back yard on a sunny day and catching the rays…Mother Earth below your belly…the sun radiating heat and energy…zapping you with revitalizing energy…. Moving to the shade once you are done like a dinner… Then demanding re-entry to your air conditioned home…sprawling out on the cool hardwood floor……

But uh, oh those Summer nights….because we all come together…at the front porch… around the cherry tree…and like the Garden of Eden… we connect…yet remain aloof…respect…yet don’t invade the invisible circle around each family… We observe…we learn…we retreat…all glad of our own unique relationships and abilities that we were blessed with…especially with  Momma and Wonder Boy (who won’t even step on a snail or kill a spider)… a bit overboard but the cats, often get there before him…and it doesn’t end well for them – the snail is sent airborne…the spider pawed….because, well, cats are predators…they can’t  help it any more than I can help being…square built….

Recently, on a balmy Saturday night when the stars were high in the sky and the moon enticing our attention, Wonder Boy and I went out to sit on the bench, at the front door, which faces the cherry tree.  In a flash, Bad Boy Andy and Diva Calico Gen were at our side, lying facing forward with their paws tucked underneath their body, heads erect, taking in the ambiance, no aggression but alert to all possibilities…. A welcome to the Jungle Sphinx look….

It didn’t take long for Mr. and Mrs. Grey Squirrel (who are are on first name basis with Wonder Boy) to arrive with their latest batch of baby squirrels, now old enough, brave enough and foolish enough to try to get closer to the cats then is probably advisable but although our Bad Boy and Diva wouldn’t hurt them, they would gladly bestow a cautionary ‘back off’ flick of a clawed paw.

Mr. and Mrs. Grey Squirrel have zero fear of Wonder Boy and seem to depend on him to give them and their offspring three square meals a day …a Cash for Life agreement…never signed…strictly honored.  If Mr. Grey Squirrel is off on some Secret Mission and doesn’t show up for two days, Wonder Boy can’t help but worry….. Trust me…I know those grey squirrels…and Mr. Grey Squirrel is especially wily…he carries battle wounds to prove it…but if any squirrel will live 25 years…bet on it being him…

Still, I hadn’t seen our Lonely Old Possum tonight, who hangs upside down from a branch in the tree, keeps to himself, but surveys….if he was around, he was camouflaged so expertly,  not even the Special Forces Sharp Shooters would get a bead on him…

Still a lonely life…no apparent family or friends…his only relief from the boredom seems to be observing the rest of the world interact from rusting leaves on the trees, to swaying flowers, chattering squirrels, snarling cats, barking dogs, the inexplicable Two Foot…not even anyone to report his data collected ….Must suck to be him.

Someone was missing….oh, here they come…  our cats,  Bad Boy and Diva, tails twitching, the squirrels, sitting on their haunches, paws folded together in prayer, watch as The Rocky Raccoon Family approach, their eyes glowing  in the dark night…

Suddenly, Rocky Junior streaks past his family, headed towards, the steps, where he is sure the already congregated are being fed to die for treats that he wants, he needs, right now. A blood curling screech emitted from Mama Raccoon stops him dead in his tracks with an uh, oh look on his face…. Apparently Rocky Junior had surpassed that invisible boundary…again….would you just chalk it out like a crime scene so all the world could see the boundaries…Is that too much to ask, ya think?????

And so we gathered in a loosely knit semi-circle of sorts, the Two Footed Wonder Boy, the Four Footed cats, squirrels, raccoons, maybe a Lonely Old Possum, and, was that our Jimmy the Skunk peeking out from under the rose bush, all in our own world, all in our shared world, gazing at the twinkling stars, the man in the moon, deep within our own heads….and maybe I imagined it but it seemed to me…

The fairies came alive in the front garden, twirling in joy as the angels and gnomes cheered and clapped them on because:

Summer, summer…. have me a blast…Cause  uh, oh those summer nights…Oh well, oh well, oh well oh, uh….Tell me more, tell me more… Was everyone there? Tell me more, tell me more…

Was it magic in the air? Tell me more, tell me more…Could you see very far? Tell me more, tell me more…Did you wish on a star?  Cause  uh, oh those summer nights… (Paraphrase Grease: John Travolta & Olivia Newton-John)

Okay, I hate to break it to you Momma…but we got us a Four Footed, long whiskered,   pointed snout, longer than body-length scaly tailed Speedy Gonzales House Mouse living in our home…so now what?

Momma won’t put down poison because…well ….because her most beloved, yet pokey  four-footed pets might ingest it…and forget traps…like tiny, unforgiving guillotines only the poor mites could pitch and shriek for days and Momma would not hear a whisper….although that might wake the cats out of their hibernation slumber.  I mean, Wonder Boy, if and when he can catch Speedy and his relatives, doesn’t mind capturing them and putting them out to scamper in to the cold night…but Momma…no…not so much….

Now the other day, a Thursday (that is the day Momma scrubs the floors, every week, like clock work (God-Love-Those-Detail-Oriented-Schedule-Keeping Virgos) and lo and behold, and fuddle duddle, out streaks Speedy Gonzales, so fast, almost a blur, but I could see his fat little body, his little round ears and that long whip of a tail, disappearing in to the bathroom, under a bath mat all the while shrieking (I swear I heard): ‘Ándale, Ándale! Ariba! Ariba!’

As Momma squealed and did an Irish Jig, I went in to panic mode….was this a threat…is there Speedy Gonzales Terrorists hiding out in our home???? Mostly I am thinking (being Havanese and hailing from Cuba)…Holy frijoles! That thing runs faster than me!

Time to get a grip, hold the phones. It is an itty bitty field mouse who has invaded private property in the dead of an Arctic Vortex….Don’t we have cats in our midst whose main contribution to the family is supposed to be to hunting…like… mice?  So I scan the horizon and what do I see?  Well, Charlie is deep in contemplation….Should I stay or should I go…Forget Charlie anyway…she catches flies, the occasional moth that dares to invade her territory but mice…never saw her even show interest in even confronting a mouse. No, she is a tried and true crunchy Meow Mix Loyalist.

And, what can I say… Bad Boy Andy, a male cat…. There he is, flat on his back, paws in the air, deep in slumber … he has to feel extremely bored to be lured in to a cat and mouse game.  The mouse would have to pull Andy’s whiskers to get any reaction out of him.  Don’t tell anyone but Andy is a softie…he doesn’t like to pick on things smaller than him.

Then there is Diva Calico Gen…she is a true female feline mouser…but more to bat them around, leave them stunned, so that Wonder Boy can scoop them up and deliver them to their Natural Habitat. There she is, wound up like a ball of tri–coloured yarn, in never–never land, chasing pretty  butterflies no doubt. Three for three, like Jesus’ disciples in the Garden of Gethsemane…all asleep.

So, as Speedy Gonzales makes his great escape, from one room to the next to the next to the next, he is chuckling as he goes… ‘They don’t make pussy cats like they used to….but then again…Us good guys always win….’

No worries, I am working on a plan…without the help of our pampered, soft and hard food, Temptation Treats fed, gorda kitties because as a Havanese (From Havana…ooh na-na (ay, ay), I speak Speedy’s native tongue…

Ándale, Ándale! Ariba! Ariba…you are so out of here Speedy Gonzales…Vamos! Vamos!

Once upon a time, there was a Kingdom within a Kingdom, with lofty headstones that stand beside simple grave markers, all remembering their dearly departed. 

And all around that least sought after piece of real estate, were wrought iron gates, padlocked at sun down, whether to keep the live out or the dead in, was up for debate.

In this sacred ground where the saints lay side by side the sinners, there is so much life … before death…after death …constant motion as plots are set in motion and plots are filled….

We the trees hear it all, see it all, feel it all…and are constantly entertained by the busy little squirrels, rabbits and a plethora of birds that make nests on the sturdiest, most leafiest branches that protect their young until such time that they breakout…to a sometimes unforgiving world… because well, you know kids theses days….they don’t listen to their elders.

We all hear the Mama Squirrels and (Papas too) shriek at their babies….do not go past the wrought iron fence…there is traffic out there…cars driven almost seems autonomously by sleep deprived Two Footed creatures, who notice (oh, darn) after the damage has been inflicted on the innocent.

Still we get endless hours of entertainment watching baby squirrels, one racing up, one racing down the tree, colliding head on falling to the ground…shake themselves off and start all over again.   We laugh and say they need teeny tiny crash helmets to protect their still developing brains…assuming they have brains (big assumption). Still, a lot of the squirrels and rabbits are smart and stay, generation after generation, like us, rooted to the land of their ancestors.

Yes, those super sweet, fluffy little bunnies who hop, hop, hop after their Mama’s… until the day they decide to slide under the iron gate to freedom….well, ‘Come back, come back, you are protected in the Sanctuary of the Dead’ falls on deaf ears.  We always sigh when we see that happen because the predators … your affectionate domestic cat, to your loving smoochie  doggie have a divine plan and that poor helpless bunny is in its cross hares….so to speak.

Poor Mama Bunny usually has a couple in her litter who are either wiser or more timid, that have it figured out….inside the gates, safe operation, outside, all bets off…we’re staying put.

But the birds, the birds, how can we help the birds…because it is free range for those nasty crows, who rob nests indiscriminately (some, not all) …and those environmentally friendly eagles…well, they can be hell to pay for other feathered friends…Armageddon all over again. 

So Hear Ye, Hear Ye…This Meeting Has Now Been Called to order:   In Attendance:  A Slew of Squirrels: Red, Brown, Gray, Black and a couple of Albinos….   Rabbits, all shape, colors and sizes…quite obvious that some families are hogging the carnation patches…Some beaten up feral cats…

A family of Raccoons that live in the steel bin behind the Equipment Shed…A posse of skunks (who let them in?) … A Lonely old Possum and some Garden snakes ….oh, and it is such a wet summer, there are intermittent ponds around the grounds, with a Duck Family  and Frogs.

Since we live in a (sort of) democracy, we allow input from all present…no, no, we will not be building a Trump Wall around the Sacred Resting Place of the Two Footed, nor erecting a retractable  or wire dome to keep your precious babies from harm’s way.

However  we, the big old oak trees, fir trees, maple trees, birch trees…we have made a pack, taken an oath, made a pledge  …. if you, our feathered, flurry and slithery friends will just tone it down, whisper like the leaves, (always blame the victim)  we will do our best to protect you from the destructive, dark forces of nature and man.

Oh, and Mama… step up the discipline…if there is such a thing as dog trainers…surely there must be squirrel, rabbit, bird trainers who will teach your dearest, most darling offspring that, ‘No means No’ or erect electronic fences.   As parents. you must bring something to the table.

Mr. Wise Old Owl looked down from his perch and proclaimed… ‘That won’t work… we support the rite of passage of Rumspringa for our youth…for if no one leaves, we will be over run with population, many will perish as supplies dwindle, as hunger ensues, chaos will soon follow.

‘Huh’, said the Trees.  ‘Huh’, repeated all the Feathered, Furry and Slippery Friends.  ‘Meeting adjourned’, said the Most Ancient Old Oak Tree…and Mr. Wise Owl, don’t come to the next meeting… Nobody likes a Know-It-All.   

Still, Most Ancient Old Oak Tree mused… ‘It’s the circle of life…And it moves us all…Through ups and downs….Through faith and love….Till we find our place…On the path unwinding…..In the circle…The circle of life…

(Paraphrase T.Bindon Rice;Elton John)

 

When I was younger…so much younger than today…I never needed any help in any way…but now my world has changed….I am not so self-assured…(The Beatles).. I am like an alien without a country of my own…so please, please help me…

It started out a muggy day, heavy with grey clouds, no breeze, ominous rumbles of thunder but…in the distance.  Papa Duck was out and about…God knows where. Somehow, it seemed like a good day to head inland, so I left my little ducks, Quack, Quack Quack and Bubbles (you heard that one before?) playing in the shallow end of the lake, safe from the big waves being created by the turbulent gusts of winds. 

As I got further and further from the shoreline, it occurred to me that the winds were picking up. No worries, I waddle close to the ground.  The wind will whistle over me if I keep my neck tucked under…as it always did in the past….you with me so far?

But who knew, a freak of nature, thunder, lightning, torrential rains, hurricane volume winds would come crashing around me and all other living, breathing beings, whether Two Footed, Four Footed, or gigantic old trees. It didn’t stop there…roofs lifted off homes, sheds were picked up, like feathers in the wind, cars were overturned…and like Dorothy and Toto, in The Wizard of Oz, I was swept up, up and away, it seemed like miles away, another county, landing in a farmers corn field, where the stalks were pounded flat in to ground as if war tanks had passed through.

OMG, where was my bucolic little lake and my baby ducks….Quack, Quack Quack and Bubbles …because family is everything to a duck. The good news was, even if my heart was racing, my wings were still intact. I could get home again…couldn’t I?  Now would be a most excellent time to have once of those Two Footed GPS Trackers, wouldn’t it?

The thunder, its lightning bolts and rain came to an abrupt end.  In rapid succession, clouds made way to blue sky. I could hear all the unsettled birds and ducks fearfully calling out location calls to try to get their loved ones home again, home again jiggety, jug, jig! I considered myself far superior and adept at trail blazing…if they would all just cease and desist their incessant noise so I could hear my own little family, surely overwhelmed and crying….because it is a well established by PETA that we too feel joy and pain just like your family pet.

North, South, East, West…which way to go.  I stood still.. observed…I saw crows going in all directions, a robin on an upended tree branch, mournfully chirping for her chicks and now non-existent nest. In the sky, I spied some geese in a practised formation heading west…surely they were fresh water bound…possibly my lake…my little ducklings.  With a great heave upwards, I was soaring, dipping and swerving, my eyes trained on the geese as they flew over fields, and forests, a farm or two, a clearing.  My wings tired but my need to succeed obliterated the pain and fatigue.

All of a sudden… I saw a gleaming in the distance, a mirage in the desert…was it my lake or a cruel hallucination?  Closer and closer and YES, it was my lake…..now where were my little ducklings.  Around and around our little dock, I went, peering in between the slats, now some missing.  No duckies.  I went on land, looked under the only fir-tree left standing…no babies there…I slipped back in to the water, ducked my head to catch a minnow.

As I raised my neck, I was sure I heard faint little quacks, over there, behind the rocks, peeking out at me … My Quack, Quack Quack and Bubbles, their brave chorus rising, the closer I got to them.

My ducklings are safe…we’re together again…God is Good…still, I’m thinking,  a duck’s life is not all its quacked up to be….

Help me if you can I’m feeling down….And I sure appreciate you being round….I now my lake is somewhere on these grounds...won’t you PLEASE PLEASE…. Help me…Help me…Ooh (The Beatles)

Because….If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it probably is... a duck…with a story, on its way, coming soon to a theater near you…..

Like she’d never been away….

In the continuing Saga of Nature against Baby Squirrels, and how the story ended, as is to be expected, when you needed them the most, Momma and Daddy were late. 

Daddy arrived home first … with no thought of a coup d’état underway.  He just about made it to the front door when  Mickey and Minnie Squirrel appeared, chirping very excitedly. Mickey managed to take a run for it and engage his claws in Daddy’s denim jeans, sprinting up his pant legs.  Minnie, not to be out done by her brother took a flying leap, claws out to latch on the denim as easily as if it were bark on a tree.

The cats turned their heads in sync, smiling benevolently, even if alarms were sounding.  Surely no… Okay, dogs in the house, cats in the house…. but read my lips.  No Squirrels, even Baby Mickey and Minnie Squirrel, as desperate as they were, as cute as they were,…NIMH (Not In My Home).

Finally, along came Momma from work, burnt out from sitting in the traffic, longing to get out of her Dress Up Clothes.  Daddy was sitting on the top step, in a dilemma.  The life of an abandoned baby squirrel was precarious… but any problem must have a solution, right.  Let’s ask Momma… She has her finger on the pulse, rescuing birds that fell from trees, raccoons out of scrap bins  or orphaned kitties at the Tier One Automotive Stamping Plants.

Call the Wild Life Federation and ask them for advice, says Momma, sage of the ages. 1^st choice, take them directly to the Conservation Centre…Until then…Keep them safe from predators, preferably in a cage.. Keep them warm.  Hydrate and Feed by dropper… Time is of the essence for a positive outcome.

Phew, thought Boy Andy, Handsome Beau Beau and Diva Calico Gen.  We’ll keep them safe…but not keep them…as selfish as that sounds… well, we believe in the Do No Harm to Babies but still Squirrels belong in trees, outdoors… not indoors, shrieking and  causing chaos.

Next day, Daddy loaded up the little cage and drove off to the Wild Life Conservation Area where rehabilitated birds, raccoons, squirrels and even some ornery cats and wild wolves lived in peace, so the story goes. Momma was a little sad to say Good Bye, Fare Thee Well but we (Bad Boy Andy, Handsome Beau Beau and Diva Calico Gen) just rolled our eyes.  Good riddance. Over and Out….

Now we suppose Mickey and Minnie Squirrel regale the wildlife with tales of where they came from and how they were rescued after their mother went AWOL…but the truth is Mama Squirrel (you know, the cat, came back, like she’d never been away) showed up, the day after they left.

Maybe Mama Squirrel had been at an all week Squirrel Rave….maybe she was at a Squirrel Convention, maybe she forgot the time…but she did come back…and we all had to listen to her keen and wail, calling out for Baby Mickey and Minnie Squirrel… if only she had come back sooner….if only…

No worries, Mama Squirrel…we grew up without our Baby Mama and just look how well we all turned out.. well…sort of, depending on your threshold of acceptance…. :-D….

Would I lie to you? Would I lie to you honey? Now would I say something that wasn’t true?…Tell me pretty babies….Would I lie to you? (Paraphrase Eurythmics)

‘Once upon a time, a long time ago, when RIP Daddy walked the earth plane and you, Jakita, were not even on the path to touchdown, a Sad story with a Happily Ever then a not so Happy (depending on your role in the scenario) happened’, said Bad Boy Andy, while Diva Calico Gen looked on, nodding her head in agreement as they all laid out in the Sun in the back yard, watching squirrels jump from the shed roof to the tree, to the fence, going like Red Devils with pitchforks were after them.

Mama Squirrel had fashioned a nest in a  big old tree cavity for her new family, expected any day.  She worked long and hard to arrange the nest to protect her babies  from the weather and predators such as hawks and owls with their beady eyes….  And she rejoiced at the birth of Baby Mickey and Minnie Squirrel.  Mama Squirrel taught them right from wrong, how to go up and down tree trunks, fly from tree branch to tree branch and AVOID wildlife like foxes, coyotes, even snakes.

‘What about the Two Footed?’ asked Jakita.   Ah, the Two Footed…who to trust, who to avoid and how to tell the difference…that was the million dollar question.

One day, when the sun was high, Mama Squirrel left her babies, Mickey and Minnie Squirrel. to go on a scavenger hunt for a couple of hours.  There was much cooing, oooing and aaahhhing when the family was reunited.  So emboldened by the success, Mamma Squirrel went out again, and again and again, for longer periods each time, leaving Mickey and Minnie Squirrel to their own devices…It was all part of the launch to embrace and experience reality of a Squirrel’s life. And then, one day she did not come home.

After a few days alone Mickey and Minnie Squirrel were hungry, scared. A week later, survival instincts kicked in. Do or Die…Choose Life.  High up in the tree they look at the Two Footed down below.  They were nice to other Squirrels, to their dog and cats.

Why not throw ourselves at their mercy. the Baby Squirrels decided. Down the tree trunk they scurried, up to the front porch and waited…..

In front row seats on the bench sat Bad Boy Andy, Handsome Beau Beau (still alive at this point) and Diva Calico Gen, Egyptian style, paws tucked under, watching waiting, wondering. What would Momma and Daddy do?  There was no Policy and Procedure Manual to follow because Jakita was not even a twinkle in her Papa’s eyes. Even so, rules of engagement forbade full-grown cats from harming babies, even squirrels.

Still, in the mind of Kitty Club Med, their Momma always had a solution to every problem.  It had better be well thought out because Baby Squirrels do become annoying adult squirrels.  Might as well just sit back and enjoy the show…… It ‘s not like we would be given a vote on the outcome…..