wild thing
Our Wild Family
by caroline taylor
It ’ s Mother ’ s Day as I begin to write this — appropriate to the story because this begins with mothers .
Momma and her Bumbleberries
Timid but curious Momma popped up on our deck one dank rainy spring night about five years ago . We didn ’ t immediately name her , as far as we knew she was passing through , but we bonded by a strong desire to make sure she was ok as she was thin and seemed to need … something . Food , of course , was the first answer . We rolled out a Granny Smith apple through the open door and she handily grabbed it and disappeared under the deck . She showed up again and again , closer and closer to the door and then knocking gently each day on the glass and waiting patiently for a treat . And as the weeks passed her hunger seemed endless and by then we were sharing our dog Buttercup ’ s kibbles . Where was all this food going , besides under the deck ? The answer : three bouncing baby bumbleberries whose antics in the apple trees and on the roof gave us hours of amusement and early morning frustration . Those little fellers make quite a ruckus with lots of loud feet and rolling apples . Momma has become a close friend , showing her affection by sometimes tenderly patting our legs with her wee leathery paws and even reaching up to feel my hair when I am bent to place some kibbles for her .
And so we have formed a beautiful kinship where we share food and Momma and her little ones bring us huge amounts of joy . But more mommas , and papas , and joy were on the way …
The “ Voltors ” Arrive and then the Lumpy Dumpies
Black Vultures mate for life . They are devoted parents and , to our delight , in early 2020 they chose our sizable dilapidated dog house to make their home . The set-up for them is ideal . The house is nestled in rough underbrush surrounded by chain link that was a dog run years ago — so safe , relatively private , but close enough to a doting human family for daily visits . Thinking back on it , I remember earlier stopovers with one or two of these beautiful birds landing atop the roof of the house or little gazebo . They favored sunning themselves on the funky little gargoyle centered on the gazebo . I wonder if they were testing our receptivity to their being here .
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