Gone To the Birds

It's 8:46 on a very rainy Thursday - a day off work and a day with absolutely nothing scheduled. I ate a perfectly soft boiled egg on buttered toast and am contemplating a second cup of coffee.

I was going to go fishing with my best guy
but it was raining.

Apparently salmon are fussy about such things. Go figure, since they LIVE in water.  Being up early anyway, I sneaked outside to conduct an experiment. I've been feeding gulls for years now.

You already know that.

In the last month or so I've taken a fancy to crows. 

There is something deeply satisfying to my inner witch, 

seeing dozens of crows in my back yard. 

The problem is my gullies assume anything I throw on the ground is for them. They are spoiled. When I throw peanuts out for the crows, the gulls, being gulls, swoop in and take over.  Since I spend about $50/week on cheap cat food for the gulls, I feel entitled to try to manage this situation.  On any given day you can catch me out in the yard with an empty, crackly plastic Audubon Raw Peanuts bag chasing the gulls away.  'Come on guys! You get yours every evening. This is for the crows! Shoo! Shoo! Shoo!"  I am now the proud owner of a Primos Old Crow crow call, so in between reasoning with the gulls, I follow the instructions on the back of the kazoo-like device and perform the eight 'Caw-Cawww' repetitions the package assures me is the feeding call.  Their response?  The crows do seem to congregate, look at me very curiously and chatter excitedly amongst themselves.

I really hope I'm not accidentally swearing in crow.

I'm not guessing, nor am I worried about what the neighbors think.  

Back to this morning's experiment . . . I thought if I was out before the gulls and scattered peanuts on the sidewalk the crows would discover them first and have a peaceful feast. Nope. Gull radar is so finely tuned I only have to open my back door before the first scout raises the alarm.  While a crow was first on the scene, caution held him back. Shortly the few gathered crows were outnumbered twenty to four.  In view of the drenching rain I left them to their own devices. You can lead a crow to peanuts . . . so to speak.

Are there life lessons here? I don't know.  Go after what you want?  The early bird gets the worm? Don't take peanuts from a white haired lady talking crow smack?  At a time when this country is torn apart by the ick of politics I simply take comfort in watching crows and gulls eating peanuts in my back yard.  One thing I have noticed:

They don't fight.  

The crows and the gulls. 

They don't fight.

The end.

Angry Raccoons and Mama Bears

I was only generally aware of the Angry Birds phenomenon. It was a phone game and spawned a lot of hats and t-shirts if I remember correctly. I do see live angry birds pretty regularly. I would be angry too if my wing were shattered in multiple places and a human, however well intended, was poking and prodding me. Mostly I see very nice birds. What I'm thinking about today, however, is angry raccoons. 

I have both bird and hummingbird feeders in my yard. Some mornings I would wake, totally baffled as to how the bird feeders, staked in large planters, were tipped over. I hadn't been aware of wind strong enough to rearrange my landscaping. And then there were the hummingbird feeders - sometimes drained of nectar right where they hung, sometimes knocked onto the deck in a sticky puddle. Usually the yellow centers of the feeder flowers were popped out and scattered. Then one night as I was about to let my dog out the mystery was solved. Just feet away from me a raccoon was on the deck railing, standing on his hind legs with his paws wrapped around the hummingbird feeder guzzling the nectar. 

Apparently I'm not the only one to discover this. A quick google search didn't even have to be finished before 'raccoon drinking from hummingbird feeder' popped up. Meanwhile in the yard three more raccoons were clamoring around the planter with the bird feeders and I watched it tumble, crashing the feeders on the ground, strewing seeds everywhere. As I opened the door they scattered leaving Mr. Nectar Chugger behind. I smiled and told him he was quite handsome as he casually sauntered away. 

They truly are beautiful creatures.

A couple nights later, knowing raccoons were in the neighborhood, I should have looked before letting Alex out for a bedtime potty break. Before I knew what was happening my nine year old, seven pound Papillon with a single tooth charged four racoons. They did what raccoons do. They defended themselves violently against the very dangerous aggressor. And I did what mama bears do. Without thinking it through I was in the middle of the mass of snarling raccoons kicking them, quite sincerely. I wish I had been swearing like a real bad ass but I think all I kept saying was, 'Git! Git! Git!' Talking later with my wildlife rehabber friends I realized I was pretty lucky I wasn't attacked as well. I give credit to my Xtra-Tuf boots (and maybe a little badassness). Alex ended up with three modest lacerations and a visit to the vet but no stitches.  All told, no serious injuries and a pretty cool story. I still think raccoons are beautiful. I'm just a little more cautious around them now. 

Photos from Google images.