Close Encounters

This season I have been outside less, and I think the wildlife around me has become accustomed to empty porches and quiet back and front yards. Birds and animals seem to have incrementally increased their territories.   

One sunny cool day, I sit on my front porch in a small shady corner next to the hall window. In a heartbeat, a robin zooms toward my face, veers off at the last second, smashes loudly into the window, turns and flies off. Concerned, I check everywhere for an injured bird but I do not see one, nor is there any evidence of injury on the window. Hopefully the bird is ok.

Next, I sit quietly on the small back porch partially hidden by an overgrown forsythia, when a catbird jumps up to the top step before spying me. It is a beautiful bird, described as having a ‘jaunty dark cap,’ and dark coloration, except for hidden bright orange underfeathers which elude me. It derives its name from its mewling call. A downy woodpecker with a dash of red at its nape flies fast into that bush.  

A small rabbit jumps up the steep cement steps almost to me before noticing and quickly vacating. It had stopped along the way to nibble on my potted plants. 

One day, in the middle of the large flat area of grass in the backyard, a rabbit is behaving curiously. She runs about 8 feet away from a sizable hole, grabs green grass and straw, turns, and carries it to what appears to be her nest. She places her items down, does an about face, sits for a while and repeats this ritual many times. It seems that she is giving birth to a new brood, one by one. After this tiresome activity, she faces out and sits quietly. Then she covers the hole with straw, flattens it down and leaves, after placing a perfect, exquisite dried oak leaf at the center.    

When she returns, disaster strikes — in the form of landscapers mowing the whole area. When I look out the window I see her draped over that nest, a lid closed over one sweet eye, lost because of her maternal instinct. The landscapers return, and they pull out piles of straw but find nothing. Some predator has come in the interim, and I feel relieved that another animal could benefit. The kits would not have survived without nursing. 

I place snow markers around that spot after seeing another rabbit sit there, perhaps attracted by an odor. It is not at all disturbed by the markers! The new rabbit sits for a long time and leaves toward dusk. It seems unlikely, but this may be the start of another brood in the same place! Time will tell. In the meantime, a mockingbird comes to leisurely preen atop one marker. And a starling walks right past, nonplussed. Unlike humans, they seem unaffected by new items and adjust quickly or find the new object serendipitous. 

My large lilac bush has attracted a pair of mockingbirds, which perform dazzling aerial mating dances, showing flashes of white. A robin pair is tending to a nest there as well. The yard is visited by starlings, grackles, and sparrows, and the sky fills with swooping swallows, some of which come low to capture insects.

In the nearby cemetery, a pair of young red-tailed hawks have fledged, now exploring the current territory, practicing hunting skills, and still being fed by parents for several weeks. One young bird calls for food incessantly, and the other, a larger bird, is playing actively. It actually finds a worm and feeds some of it to its sibling. Then it hops onto a stone and pounces over and over again onto a small stick, capturing it in its talons, but losing its balance, wings akimbo. It finally falls over sideways, amusing to witness close up, and rights itself. I hope we get to enjoy this phase of life a little longer before they leave. Sometimes young raptors seek out carrion as easy “prey” until they hone their hunting skills, difficult to achieve at best.     

On leaving, I see what appears to be a family of four Northern flickers fly up from the ground to a tree limb, white rump patches dazzling in the sun.