Living With Gramps - Animal Visits

Living in Manchester, New Hampshire, there was not a lot of wildlife to be seen. Over eighteen years, we saw some, including the time a moose ran around the airport. In Florida, some raccoon babies wandered through the neighborhood and an alligator lived in the pond. Slocum is different. It wasn’t exactly in the middle of the woods; the land around is mostly turf farm with nowhere to hide. While it isn’t exactly urban, the city is not far away. Still, it seems we had a lot of animal visitations when I was there.

In addition to the ubiquitous squirrels, chipmunks, bees, and birds, there were rabbits. There was a whole family of rabbits that grazed on our lawn every day. The babies were no bigger than chipmunks. Usually, they would skedaddle as soon as they saw me, but one time I saw them near the tomatoes and thought I should warn them to stay away. Something had been nibbling the leaves. As I approached, one rabbit ran to the thorny hedge, but the other simply flattened himself (herself?) onto the ground, lowering her ears so as to be as inconspicuous as possible while her husband (wife? sister?) called from the hedge. “What do you think you’re doing? I can still see you. I’m a primate; I have full color vision,” I said from five feet away. “Stay away from the tomatoes.” Sometimes animals do strange things.

Not long after that was when I first saw the woodchuck. He would be out mostly around dawn or dusk, often eating alongside the rabbits. They never paid any attention to each other. I wasn’t sure what to do about the woodchuck. It ran into the old shed whenever I was around, so it obviously had a burrow there. Thus, we were not able to light a fire by the opening to suck out the oxygen as my grandfather suggested; it would burn the shed down. We couldn’t even get to the hole since the shed was so run down and full of junk that it was dangerous to enter. It was partly held up by the junk. I wanted to let the critter live, but I was worried what the neighbors might do if they found out we were harboring a garden terrorist. In the end, laziness and indecision won out.

We also had a skunk. At least, that’s what my uncle said it was that tore up our lawn looking for grubs. There were huge patches of grass with small holes dug every few inches. It also pooped everywhere; I had to keep getting the shovel out. One very dark night, I looked out the window and could just barely make out a white animal keeping to the shadows. If it wasn’t so white, I would never have seen it at all.

Then there were the flocks. One day I heard what sounded like rain on the roof. I looked outside to see the yard filled with blackbirds. Some had brown streaks. I wondered if they were juvenile crows, but my aunt thinks the group might have been a mix of starlings and something else.

They frantically searched the grass for snacks for a few minutes while I watched. One had landed on the eaves below the bathroom window and wanted in. It kept pecking the screen. Every so often, a section of the birds would take flight and move over a few feet. This caused a ripple effect across the crowd. Then, as suddenly as they arrived, they left.

This was a one-time visit in the spring of 2018. I had never before seen so many birds in one place, though I had seen starlings before. Then, in the fall of 2018, they were back. The same superflock of thousands went up and down our street for weeks, stopping in every yard and on every tree. I took note of the way they went from one resting point to the next. They would launch in groups. First, 35% percent would take off, followed a few seconds later by 25%, then 20%, then 15%, and finally 5%. The rear guard would get smaller and smaller until there were only a couple dozen scattered birds. It is a big mystery how such a large number can all know to take off simultaneously, but an equally big mystery is why the whole flock doesn’t launch at once. How are they divided into groups? Families?

I also saw praying mantises, hawks, and a male Baltimore oriole. I saw flying ants pouring from the ground in autumn. A black-and-white cat walked through our yard from time to time, very interested in the base of the barn. Our neighbor just down the street had seen coyotes (they hunt the rabbits), and thought it was likely a bear that smashed her bird feeder.

One time, while cutting back some bittersweet vine that was strangling our blueberries, I heard what sounded like pigs grunting behind me. I turned quickly, but saw nothing. Were they invisible pigs? That would be a new species. As it turns out, this is the sound that hummingbirds make when they change direction.

Finally, there were the geese. These are the animals that stay all winter. I see them gathered in great gaggles on the turf fields during fog, rain, sleet, and snow. They leave during the day to visit nearby ponds and return around dusk, darkening the skies with their shadows and filling the air with their “song.” The farmers put out dog silhouettes to deter them, but these have no effect. Not even the one that rotates in the breeze has any effect on them. They sit all around it and some of the more adventurous geese walk right up to it to investigate. Geese only fear real dogs and real dogs never get anywhere near them before they take off.

Rhode Island is a nice place if you like animals.