Waiting for the Apples to Come In

It’s gonna be a long wait, Mama Doe; it’s only June!

Mama has made herself quite comfortable weaving in and out of neighbors’ yards as of late. Sunday she appeared with her two yearlings who were not nearly as brave as she. While they stood somewhat apprehensively in the roadway, Mama casually chowed down a couple of  my neighbor’s hostas, grazed thoughtfully on their lawn, and then jumped the picket fence of the folks across from them to see what other delicacy she might find.

I understand her under the apple tree. Once the apples come in, you can watch any number of deer and other wildlife feasting on those apples already fallen and those on the lower branches. But considering that there is so much browse available surrounding our neighborhood streets, I wonder why she chooses to come so close to humans. I’m guessing she has simply acclimated and is in her comfort zone.

The small irony which I could not get any closer to capture lest she run, is the child-size scarecrow sitting at the edge of my neighbor’s very well-fenced garden not 20′ away from Mama Doe grazing under the apple tree. I do not believe deer to be cunning animals, but I wondered … could her apparent search for apples have really been a sly stake-out of the garden?

Why I Love Having My Car Washed

Because I love having it covered with paw prints within minutes of my leaving it in the driveway. And … not even my cat!

Pumpkin

However … I took this shot through the window, screen and all, because I didn’t want to interrupt Pumpkin’s beauty nap. When you’ve been adopted, you just learn to make certain allowances.

A Pond, A Nation

My neighbors rebuilt their pond – it’s magnificent. I watched the fish as they initially huddled together, sometimes at the very bottom of the pond when temperatures were cold, but at others, it seemed, for security. Every movement was made as a group, their little school. In barely a week and a half they have settled in, and now explore, swimming alone or with a few others, then back in the larger group, all dictated by needs and desires of which I can only surmise.

They frolic in the waterfall, dive, dart and occasionally leap splendidly in the air and splash down. I could watch them all day; they are mesmerizing. Observing a pattern of life so vastly different from my own – and yet so elementally the same – brought to mind a favorite quote.

It’s by Henry Beston from The Outermost House, A Year of Life on the Great Beach of Cape Cod, written in 1928. This quote prompted me to pick up the book at the annual library sale, a perfect summer read.

“For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours, they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendor and travail of the earth.” 

This quote has lived in my heart for over two decades and resonates deeply with my own love for animals. The fishes’ world may be a simple pond, but they are a nation of their own.

The Photo I’ll Never Get

Something unusual has been happening on my back porch. I’d love to get a photograph of it, but it’s not going to happen. Well, not unless I suddenly have the time to sit out there stock-still for extended periods of time. But first let me show you the photo I can get. Not very exciting, I know. But to know what I can’t photograph, you can see the other half of the picture – the stationary items.

These are the food and water bowls on my back porch adjacent to my back door. They’re there to feed aforementioned feral cat, Little Fee, and the cats next door whenever they’re inspired. The other day while busy working, I heard a nasal, one syllable, repeated caw. I knew it was a crow, but he sounded mighty close. Where was he?

I tip-toed slowly back to the kitchen, and there he was, sitting on the railing, eyeing the cat food. I stationed myself at the back door and watched as he, after surveying his surroundings for safety, dropped to the porch deck and ate a few pieces of food. This was new! And then he flew away. That’s one of the photographs I would like to have gotten. Maybe a week earlier, I had spotted a blue jay – same routine – but he took one piece and flew away, and returned some time later for more. Whether or not it was the same jay, I’ll never know, but that was also a great shot I’ll never get.

The day following the first crow’s appearance, I heard more crow chat on the back porch, and now there were two – one eating from the bowl, and another on the railing. The latter soon hopped down, pushed the other aside, and ate a bunch. I guess the word is out, so I may have to adjust what I do with the food – I don’t really need to be feeding high quality, holistic cat food to the local crow population, nor do I need them on my porch, as much as I love crows.

Did you know that crows have the highest brain-to-skull ratio of any living bird? They are considered one of the most intelligent birds alive with several species topping the avian IQ scale and as demonstrated by their construction and use of tools, creation of mid-air games such as jousting and “air-chicken” to determine the pecking order, and other feats. It is reported that although humans cannot generally tell individual crows apart, crows have been shown to have the ability to visually recognize individual humans, and to transmit information about “bad” humans by squawking to one another.

Although crows are, and have been, viewed in many different ways throughout history to the present, their presence is often thought to be symbolic of magic and creativity. (Ted Andrews discusses this at length in Animal Speak.)

Will I ever get a photograph of the crows on my porch? I’m sure not, but maybe someday I’ll be in the right spot at the right time in some other location to get just the right photo. Meanwhile, I think I have to look out for Little Fee, and make sure his food supply is not commandeered by these opportunistic black beauties.