Nov. 14, 2003 ~ Wild things
They are everywhere. Sometimes welcome, sometimes not. While driving to work on Monday, a bobcat crossed the highway right in front of me. A beautiful animal, graceful and fast, it made it to the other side with moments to spare. Browner than I expected, it must be wearing its darker, winter coat. Yesterday as I was leaving to run errands, I glanced at the big pond, expecting to see a great blue heron, as usual, but surprise, another bobcat sat by the edge of the pond. Sat. In broad daylight. Don't they know they're supposed to be nocturnal? Have they not read the field guides? Domestic cats are no match for bobcats, who can outrun them and follow just about anywhere the little cats can climb or hide. So I yelled ugly words at the pretty kitty, and he (she?) jumped a little, startled by my voice. He quickly ran into the woods, which is a much better place for him to be. But I don't like to think of them so close. We have too many precious little ones here.
Today, as is my usual habit, I stepped outside the back door, just for a breath of fresh air, and there in the back pasture was a coyote. The dark one, the one we can't seem to kill. He was in no hurry; he did not seem afraid. Brownie Jo, our coyote-hating, coyote-chasing cow, had fallen down on the job. Or had she just grown used to that particular animal's presence? At any rate, I feared for the babies, the twins. Sometimes Suzy will move and one little one will move with her, but the other one will lay sleeping, not knowing the herd has moved on. I hate to think of one of our babies being eaten. Coyotes and bobcats have to eat, too, but I sure don't want them to eat our cats or calves. The dark coyote slowly moved toward the woods, stopping along the way, looking around. Did he see the barn cat in the front pasture? Or the ones on the back porch? He went into the woods and I breathed a sigh of relief. But a few minutes later, that barn cat suddenly ran into the barn, and there was the dark one in the front pasture. He seemed to be eating cow manure. Odd. I went out front and yelled at him. He raised his head to look at me but stood his ground. I yelled again. He lifted a front paw, uncertain. Not particularly afraid, which worries me. Is he rabid? I yelled louder, clapped my hands together, and he finally turned toward the woods again, and slowly trotted away. Once he stopped to look at me, as if to say, "I'm going, but only because I feel like it." I had a clear shot at him, except for the fact that there is a house on the other side of the woods, which means no shooting at all. It's almost as if he knows this. Devil beast.
Yesterday I was excited to see three deer in the back pasture, way up on the hill by the fence. Oddly enough, they didn't move, even though I watched them for a long time. And they were spaced a strangely even distance apart. When I yelled, and they still didn't move, it dawned on me that what looked like the rear view of three deer... was actually three wooden fence posts, partly covered by brush. Oops.
All rights reserved
_______________________________