Moving Day

It was another sweltering day when I stepped outside. White tips, the grey squirrel was sitting in the maple and began to natter when he saw me. What? Moi? He knows me well enough so I thought a cat must be nearby.

Movement among the shrubs led my eyes to a black squirrel. Struggling, it climbed up the fence and on to the rail. I stood and squinted, wondering why it was so large and then I realised it was carrying something.

Moments later, after running into the house for the camera, my eyes focused on its luggage.  AHA ! It was moving day ! In its mouth was a baby being gently carried along the fence top.  Every time it stopped there were squeaks of I don't wanna go!  Well, I'm imagining that was the phrase.  

I watched as it ran, well more like scampering as squirrels tend to do. Across one side, a tight right onto the chain link fence pipe, then into the hedge. Another squirrel joined the parade but I believe it was more of an escort. Onto the neighbours roof and out of sight.

I had seen this only once before when there was a parade of adults carrying their young ones to a nest in the front garden. Then as now, it's amazing how caring they can be. I do hope they haven't moved far as I've been enjoying watching 5 or 6 youngsters spill out of the nest at first light, wrestling, chasing and cavorting with each other.   

As I watched them scurry across the roof I whispered...don't forget to write.

My Hero

I had searched through friends, phone books, the world wide webs for a hero and finally found him. It came about last week when a neighbour called to warn me of a porcupine in the apple tree. Sure, ok, why am I not surprised Ross. An elephant yes, I would be surprised as they aren't native to this area, but a porcupine, ummm no.

While I had him on the phone I enquired who his roofer was, having had a new roof installed the week before. He gave me his name and number with a great reference. I called the next day and left a message. The following day he called me back saying he was in the neighbourhood and could he drop by. YES! I practically screamed.

We met and reviewed my predicament. The removal of the three old roof vents to be replaced with heavy metal; and I would not object to them being electrified. We discussed dollars and time line; and he left saying I'll let you know. I've heard that before but I had hope in him.

Fryday his truck pulled in and I ran out to meet him. Screw the acting cool and nonchalant, I was desperate. Here was a man with tools and knew how to use them! I was NOT letting him out of my sight.

I stood guard as the red fecker was in the walnut tree nattering and foot stomping knowing full well what was taking place. My Hero replaced all the vents with heavy duty screening over the openings, then screwing down the metal roof vents.

This morning I laid in bed laughing while listening to the red feckers wee fists beating on the vents and nattering like a sailor. I finally won and there is no way he can chew through them.

If something does happen, my Hero will be here after one call. Life is good again.

Lost bird song

For weeks I've heard nothing, no call of robins, no chortle of finches; the bird song has become non-existent. While it saddens me I understand nature. The young ones have left the nest so there is no need for their parents to sing them awake to begin their survival training.

I shall remember the two broods of robins nesting upon the side door light. The first brood was exciting to watch but when the second began not three weeks later, I held my breath. They all survived though their parents were thin and worn.

  

The blue jays, with three spawn, were a delight to watch. The parents brought them into The Pond nightly to quench their thrist while they searched for supper. They are truely clowns when left on their own, and I took such pleasure in watching their antics.

Of course the sparrow who has alighted here for years dropped in for his daily bath. I am unsure if it's the same one but the habits are too similiar to be another. I could superimpose photos each year and its schedules are the same. Alighting in the shrubs, pecking about, then diving into the bird bath for a shower, then flying to the cedar for prunning. It had to be him!

The doves, those mourning doves, with such a sad song. Parents nesting across the street would drop their two dovelings? at The Pond. For weeks I watched while the two siblings cuddled til a parent flew in with a mouth full of food. They both ate well, and I am sure they are the ones now gleaning the sidewalks for seeds..

I'll never forget the pileated woodpecker. He was huge and bright! His squawk always announced his arrival as he landed in the old maple tree every few days to bore into rotten limbs. With a beak full of worms his lady would alight and they would share the meal.

As autumn draws near, their summer voices have been silenced as they seek comfort in the wild. I wish I could join them...

Fireflies lost

fireflies have left this plain

seeking companionship

in the heavens.

Perseides cloak the skies

its showers enveloping

fireflies lost

in the seeking of love.

Payback is grand

The saga of Petite La Rouge Petite McRed Petite MacFecker continued at least until Sunday past. Fingers, eyes and toes crossed.

A dear friend dropped by to clean out the eaves troughs and while he was up on the roof he asked if I had chicken wire and heavy wire and don't forget cutters. I'm on it! The vent was twice wrapped with chicken wire and tied off with the heavier wire. Ahhhh, it looks bootiful I exclaimed.

Late afternoon the wee fecker returned from his neighbourhood patrol. I could hear clawing and squealing while inside the house and so I snuck out to the patio. There he was scratching and pulling at the wire. He heard my giggles, turned and ran to a branch above me. Was he pizzed off! He stood thumping his feet all the while nattering and threatening me. I returned to safety inside for my camera.

Back up he went to lay waste to the barricade. He managed to sneak half way in under the first layer but backed out. Around and over he went, snarling the entire time. He was not a happy camper, but I was and rubbed it in with laughter and remarks such as “told ya sooner or later I would win” and “I asked politely to cease the 1 a.m. games of walnut basketball but you wouldn't listen”.

After supper I went out one last time. His poor me I am homeless now human stance didn't fool me one bit. It was a ploy. I knew that, and he knew I wasn't about to be sucked in no matter how cute he was. He's been a shite disturber for a year and now it was payback time.

As night fell I looked out and saw him silhouetted on the eaves. I did have a pang, just an itty bitty pang of guilt but what I've been through the past year, feck him! Find another home, another red to harass and life will be peaceful once more. Well almost.

Tonight I came home to the garden and patio littered with walnut fronds. I guess the pile is his way of saying, I may be out of your home, but I'm near, very near.  If only one of the umpteen contractors, roofers, handy persons would return my call to have ALL the vents replaced and electrically wired I wouldn't feel the need to sleep with one eye open.