Lucy Returns

April 2010

Last Winter was long and cold.  Around about December Lucy suddenly turned up again.  She was looking healthy, but obviously finding food hard to come by.  At first she was very skittish as if she had forgotten us completely.

Now it is April and she appears at our door now and then, usually around supper time.  She is quite used to us and is again taking food from Marisha's hand.  She is extraordinarily beautiful, alert and very aware of everything around her.

Fox and Woodrat

Summer 2008
Driving home late at night the car headlights picked out a mother fox and three kits (cubs) at the side of the road.  I stopped and backed up so the kits stayed in the light.  One crouched down and disappeared.  The other two gray/tan furry bundles stood there staring at the lights.  The mother, looking disgusted, walked off up the road leaving the kits alone. 

Like their name, fox kits look half kitten and half puppy - totally cute.   I wondered why the mother kept walking.  Was she trying to lead me away or was she just fed up after a long day with the kids?  When I drove up the road, there she was, striding on ahead about a quarter mile away.  Orianne arrived home a little later and saw them reunited, so the kits must have caught up with her.

Next day, I found the honeysuckle I had grown from a cutting and planted out, was eaten off down to the ground.  Like one of those silent movies, I actually did a double-take when I went into the garden and noticed the whole 12” plant was missing.  I knew it was a victim of one of the many chipmunks or ground squirrels we have romping around our deck.  So I set out a “Havahart” live trap baited with peanut butter.

Nothing happened for a couple of days until one night I was wakened by a loud jangling noise.  The trap is three feet long with 1” square mesh - quite heavy; it should not make that much noise with a small animal inside.  When I went out onto the deck, the trap had been move ten feet and a light brown rodent was dead inside, its head stuck through the mesh and half eaten off.  

I put the trap in the shed for the night and next morning examined its contents.  It was definitely not a chipmunk.  The long furry tail and large mouse-like body showed it to be a Bushy-Tailed Woodrat - a pretty looking animal with large ears and soft fur, quite unlike the normal rat.   This is what I think happened: the Woodrat was caught and tried to escape through the mesh; the fox caught its head; the fox then dragged the trap around as it tried to pull the woodrat out. 

My attempts to catch the plant thief had misfired and claimed an innocent victim.  I put the body of the woodrat out on the mountainside so the fox could come later to collect its meal. A couple days passed and I put the trap out again in a different place.  I caught the thief -- a Golden-Mantled Ground Squirrel.  He looks like a larger version of a chipmunk but with a relatively shorter tail and no stripes on the face.  I transported him safely down the mountain and set him free.

Beautiful Colorado

Bull Snakes

Summer 2008
In the last few years, some big Bull Snakes have taken up residence.  According to the nature books, these are actually Gopher Snakes -- but this does not seem a fitting name for such magnificent animals (though I like the idea of them eating our Pocket Gophers). 

Up close, they are about 5 to 6 feet long with bright checkered markings on their back - black, yellow and tan.  The head is small while the body is thicker and powerfully muscled under skin that is silky smooth.  In contrast to their reputation, Bull Snakes are peaceable and quiet. 

A couple of summers ago, I had an intimate encounter with a pair of Bull Snakes.  Marisha aged 10, was playing outside with a friend.  I heard a high pitched scream and came running to find them both transfixed, looking at a mass of writhing, sinuous bodies.  Two snakes had got totally enmeshed and entangled in the black plastic netting I used to protect my lilac bush from deer attack.  The strong thin mesh is exactly the right size to allow the head of the snake through and then trap the larger body, tightening and cutting into the scaly skin.

I fetched a scissors and, somewhat hesitantly, started to carefully cut the multiple strands of netting from around each snake.  It was quite a long job taking about fifteen minutes as I manipulated the long heavy bodies.  Holding an animal, you can feel its nature - the way it responds to human presence.  These snakes were patient and calm, never trying to attack or make my job difficult - and they were certainly not comatose or passive.  They emanated a kind of quiet natural intelligence that knew we were trying to help and not harm.  

The girls stood watching and helping, fascinated by the grace and beauty of these reptiles.  When the first was free, I let them handle it for a few moments and then it slithered off into the grass and down a hole.  The other followed soon after.   All three of us were giddy with excitement and elation. 

It is such an honor to hold and help such beings; without our intervention they would have died a horrible death.  At such moments, we can be proud to be humans with our skillful hands and brain, able to solve an animal’s life and death problem.

Soon after, I got rid of all the black plastic netting I could find around the garden.  Unfortunately, I missed a piece.  Last summer, I found one of the Bull Snakes cut to pieces by its sharp strands.  Human ingenuity is a two edged sword - healing and harming.

Bears and Pack Rat

August 2010
The animals are invading!  Coming down in the morning last week, we found the fridge and freezer open with chewed food on the ground.  A smart bear has learned how to open the sliding glass door and where the food is kept.  Happily, it is a fairly tidy bear.  It was mostly interested in water melon and cheese and even took the cheese bag outside to eat. 

A couple of days later Marisha came down to find it tugging at the locked door handle trying to get it open.  She chased it away.  Recently, I also found it coming through the open door.  Tired of its nonsense, I growled at it and chased it up the mountain, shouting and throwing stones.  It ran fast but I am sure it will be back.

As if that was not enough, a pack rat decided to take up residence in our forced air heating ducts.  All night long it kept me awake banging and scurrying around the ducts.  It was not interested in the food in the live trap.  Eventually, after nearly a week of nightly noises, I caught it using shiny balls of aluminum in the trap.  Now it is safely relocated a few miles down the mountain.

Steller's Jays and Mourning Doves

Early Summer 2008
Each morning I usually awake to the sounds of the “Kak, Kak, Kak” of the Steller’s Jays and the “Coo, Coo, Cooo, Coo” of the Mourning Doves.  The jays have always been here, cocky and brilliant blue with those funny black mohawks on their heads.  They particularly like to steal the sunflower seeds and elderberries in the Fall - you see them hanging upside down on the flowers and branches with their mohawks wobbling as they eat.  

The doves are a recent arrival this year.  They hang out on the dusty dirt road during the day and clatter away as we drive up.  Their call is sadder, but reminiscent of the Wood Pigeons I used to hear as a child waking in my Grandmother’s house, Ffrwdgrech, in Wales.  It evokes in me a timeless sense of the comfort and peace of childhood - lying in bed on a summer morning with no reason to get up and the day expanding in front of me with no demands or schedules.  Wish that it could still be so!

Sacred Ireland

Sheila the Wolf Spider

Summer 2009

We don't have very many spiders at this altitude.  A black widow with black shiny body and red hourglass on her belly lives quietly under the septic cover near the garden. She doesn’t bother us and we don’t bother her; it is a case of mutual respect.  As far as I know, black widows are the only “dangerous” spiders in Colorado.

Last week, Marisha came inside asking about a hole that had appeared in the pathway to the vegetable garden.  I assumed that it was the result of something sticking into the ground.  When I went to look, I found an oval hole, quite deep, about 1 1/4’ in diameter.  It was obviously made by an animal; as we approached, something stirred. 

We got a flashlight and carefully peered in.  About 4” down a line of four tiny electric blue eyes stared back at us. Marisha kept watch and called us when a large spider slowly emerged.  It was hard to tell what it was at first; I assumed it was a tarantula because its body seemed fuzzy.  Looking closer, we could see that the 1 1/2” body was covered with tiny gray baby spiders, all crawling around.  The legs were bunched up but probably each 1” long, thin and hairless. 

I suggested we call the spider “Shelob” after the giant spider in Lord of the Rings.  Marisha said she looked too nice and suggested she be named “Sheila.”  At first I though the spider might be a kind of hairless tarantula that lives in Southern Colorado.  Eventually it became clear that Sheila is a large Wolf Spider.  These dig tunnels and some erect towers around their burrows.  They carry their babies on their backs.

Over the next few days, we visited Sheila and her babies every morning.  She would come out to bask in the sun and let her babies go for a walk.  Any sudden movement or shadow and babies and mother retreated in a flash down their hole.

A few days later we found another spider hole nearby with a fine collection of sticks around its entrance.  The characteristic line of bright blue eyes glinted up at us from the dark.  Marisha called this one “Alex.”

Then there was a violent rainstorm.  Afterward, Alex’s hole was collapsed and Sheila was not in her hole.  All her hundreds of babies were grown to 1/4” across and were wandering around their home.  I just now checked, and they are still there, shooting into the hole when I approach.

More Birds and Bears

Summer 2008

The sun is hotter now, so our doors are usually wide open (unless we get one of our sudden 50 mph gusts of wind).  We have had a number of bird visitors in the house.  The inevitable hummingbird came to feed on a piece of bright red cloth in the sun-room and needed persuading to leave.  A female Western Tanager with bright eye and neat olive coloring made a flying visit in one door and out the other.  Her mate, the male Tanager, is often around near the pond with his startlingly bright yellow body and rosy head.   

The Dusky Flycatcher came last and stayed longest.  It exhausted itself flying against the skylights until I caught it in a butterfly net.  Then it sat panting in Marisha’s hand as it recovered.  Eventually, it sat up and perched on her finger, gripping tight with its sharp claws - she made a face but held still.  We had time to examine the “whiskers” around it’s beak and admire the eye ring and pale breast before it flew off. 

Last weekend, I went to visit Violet who was hosting a Boulder Gardener’s meeting at her magnificent mountain garden in Cold Creek Canyon.  The air was thick with humming birds and Tree Swallows, swooping after insects and resting on the wires.  She has a number of nesting boxes so I could see little swallow heads peeking out as they sat on their eggs.  Also on the wires and flashing brilliant azure blue were a number of Mountain Bluebirds.  They are often hard to spot as their plumage looks drab gray but in the sun they sparkle.

Eating breakfast this morning in our “Secret Garden”, Orianne pointed out a young “cinnamon” bear ambling up the mountainside, probably one of the pair that raided our compost.  It looked rather thin and lonely to me, and I wondered what had happened to its sibling.  Probably, as the pickings get thinner during the summer, the bears have to make it on their own.  

Do bears experience adolescent trauma as they are wrenched from their family by the imperative to get food?  How do they find all those thousands of calories each day to feed that big body?  It cannot be an easy life, alone and often hungry, but at least they are free of our demanding human schedules.

Lucy and Marisha

Lucy continued to hang around and formed a strong bond with Marisha during 2008.  She would approach Marisha and wait patiently to be fed from her hand.  We loved to watch her do the egg trick - pick up a raw egg in her mouth and take it away to be eaten later.

Suddenly Lucy stopped coming round and we feared the worst.

Lucy the Fox

June 2008 - Lucy was hanging around as she got stronger.
This last winter was pretty harsh and cold.  There were many days when I preferred to stay inside rather than take the bucket of kitchen scraps down to the compost pile, so a few were left on the deck to freeze. Late in the winter, the kitchen scraps started to get strewn around.  Dainty footprints spotted the deck and we knew a fox was visiting and stealing our left-overs. 

It is not a good idea to feed most wild animals.  They get dependent on the handouts and seldom get the range of nutrients they can obtain from “live” food.  So we started to be a bit more careful about the compost buckets.

One evening, as we sat down for supper in still freezing April, the pointed and delicate face of a fox appeared at the sliding glass door.  She was skinny and ragged, half of her fur coat missing.  Her tail, rather than being a grand russet broom, looked wasted and gray.  Worst of all, she was limping badly on her left front leg; it had a swelling high on the thigh - probably broken or badly damaged.   There we were in the warmth, tucking into a feast.  There she was, a pane of glass away, slowly dying of cold and malnutrition. 

With a 12 year old, soft-hearted daughter and a wife who loves to take care of people, I had no chance of upholding the wisdom of letting her starve.  While not quite begging like a dog, her eyes and stance made it quite clear she was expecting some genuine response from us.  We fed her.

Now it is June and we have a pet fox.  Her name is Lucy Fox; she visits most evenings at around 6.00.  Her left leg is still swollen and obviously painful, worse some days than others.  She runs, or rather hobbles gracefully on three legs.

I am startled by her quiet presence, a few feet behind me as I walk up from the greenhouse with vegetable for supper.  She is there when we unload groceries from the car.   At dusk, she sits patiently, alert and focused, waiting for her daily dues.  If you have food and stay still, she will fearlessly come within a couple of feet.  She is the perfect pet - quiet, undemanding, beautiful and intelligent.

Holding a Red Crossbill

Summer 2007

Walking out onto our deck I almost stepped on a crouching bird about 6” long with light brown back, leaf green cap and yellow green underbelly.  I carefully picked it up to see what was wrong with it and got a surprise when I looked at the beak closely.  It was long, sharp with the bottom overlapping the top and twisted to one side.  I knew then it was a crossbill.

I called my daughter, Marisha (age 11) and she gently took it into her cupped hands with a look of pure delight.  Then she asked with doubt in her voice, “Do you think it might have bird flu?”  A good question, but I was pretty sure it had flown into one of the big windows of our sun-room and was simply stunned.  She sat outside in the morning sun holding the bird as it slowly regained strength.  

When my wife came out Marisha said, “I have always wanted to hold a wild bird.  This is the best day of my life!”  I remembered when Marisha was 6 and decided that she wanted to be like Saint Francis and have all the animals come to her.  She stood waiting in the woods for almost an hour before she returned to the house tearful with disappointment.  Now she had a small taste of her wish. 

So many children never have the opportunity to be in such intimate contact with nature, to feel the beating heart of a wild animal.  We placed the bird on a seat and went inside to watch.  Together we looked through the bird books, confused by the bright green coloring until we realized she was a female red crossbill, with coloring totally unlike the rosy male.   A flock of crossbills started alighting on the trees near the pond, including some fine red males.  We had to leave for school but my wife said that a little later, the female crossbill gathered herself together and flew off into the forest.

Bears and Humans

Summer 2006
We regularly get visited by a full-grown black bear, as tall as I am when he is standing.  He once walked within 30 feet of my daughter while she played.  It did give her a bit of a shock, especially as he “huffed” as he went by, but she was more excited than fearful.

It is strange to me that many people are frightened of wild animals.  If you know and respect their nature, they are far less dangerous than humans.  Up close to a black bear, for instance, it becomes very clear he is only interested in finding food and having a quiet life.  I have stood within ten feet of our bear while he sat patiently waiting for me to get out of the way so he could get at my compost.  When I told him to go (in no uncertain terms), he got up and lumbered off to somewhere more peaceful.  Wild animals have their own lives and do not want to get over-involved with human hassles.       

Still, human beings carry their fear around with them and project it onto whatever is unknown.  Talking about lion’s tails and axe-handles, one neighbor goes for walks up the mountain road carrying one -- an axe-handle.  He looks more dangerous than the wild animals.

March Sunrise

Early morning view from our house.

Mountain Images

Here are a few images of the view from our house one winter's morning

Turkey, Kinglet, Falcon

Orianne and Marisha, my wife and daughter, saw a couple of wild turkeys on the way home last week.  I heard one in the distance when I was in the garden and went looking for it down the mountainside.  It was suddenly quiet and I came across a fox, standing still, watching my approach; it was obviously on the same hunt.  

A week later I had a spate of bird sightings.  We have many feathered visitors to our pond; it is the only open water for miles around.  Usually these are chickadees, nuthatches, siskins, junkos, robins and the occasional goldfinch.  This last weekend we were sitting on the deck when a tiny wren-like ball of fluff appeared on the willow above the pond.  It had the most gorgeous bright red mohawk on the top of its head - a Ruby-Crowned Kinglet.  Such tiny delicate beauty.  

Not long after, streaking through the forest about three feet from the ground, came a falcon, probably a Peregrin.  With blade-like wings, it swerved between the tree trunks like a slalom skier.  The next day at the pond was a squabbling flock of pine grosbeak, dabbing their big beaks into the water. Finally today, I saw the turkey.  I followed it as it strutted through the trees shaking its red wattle.  I was impressed by its regal bearing, long neck and glossy black back trimmed with light brown tail feathers.  It never hurried but managed to keep at least 25 yards between us, no matter how fast I pursued.  It lost me in a thicket.

Coyote and Fox

This is the first siting of Lucy Fox in 2007.
Sitting at my computer, I look out the window into the pine forest. Up the slope, I planted beds of daffodils so I can glance up and see their bright yellow flowers in the Spring. Today, as I was working, a very healthy coyote wandering past the window. I got up and followed it from window to window as it walked around the whole house. Finally, its curiosity satisfied, it ran off down the road. 

It did not see me but I was often within a few feet. I could clearly see the bright intelligence and curiosity in its eyes as it checked out everything. The contrast of sandy gray and light yellow tinge of its coat was beautiful.

I totally admire the independence and aliveness of wild animals. They are so very different from our domesticated pets. Ten minutes later, again at my computer, a ragged vixen fox decided to stop outside the window to clean herself. She sat down with black-stockinged legs splayed and nibbled at her belly. 

The contrast with the coyote was startling. The fox had obviously had a very hard winter. Her coat was drab and patchy, her eyes were dim, and her tail did not even have the red foxy color and white tip. She got up after a minute and continued on her way with a dainty stepping motion of her slender black legs. Even in her ragged state she still walked as if her feet disliked the touch of dirt. Foxes strut like aristocrats; coyotes lope like commoners.

Humming Birds and Northern Goshawk

Spring 2005

The first day of Spring! A week ago the Broad-tailed hummingbird arrived from his long journey North. I heard his whistling flight on the front porch where he was checking out the empty feeder. I filled it fast and watched as he settled in for a drink. His scarlet red bib twinkled in the sun as he bobbed his head up and down -- and then he was off faster than the eye can follow to start work on his nest.

Up at this altitude (7,400) we measure spring by the arrival of the first hummingbird. Now we know there may be a few more frosts and a couple of wet snows but they won’t usually last long. In past years we had up to a dozen hummingbirds at the feeder and the air would be filled with their courtship flights - males rising high in the air and then a piercing whistling as they dived back down to earth, missing our heads my inches. The last couple of years we have only had about six to eight after the babies have grown.

We see two species of hummingbird: the Broad-tailed and the Rufous. That little red terrorist won’t arrive until August but when he does all hell breaks loose. Until then, it is pretty sedate at the feeder. This weekend, working out on the deck in glorious Colorado weather (75F with deep blue sky), a hawk glided close overhead. It’s underwings were a very light gray and its wings blunt and powerful. We have sometimes confused the ravens gliding and tumbling down in the valley with birds of prey but this was more serene and majestic - a Northern Goshawk.

There is something special about birds of prey. More than most birds, they cause a flurry of excitement, a wish to see more and get closer. Maybe it is those movies of medieval falcons on the wrists of lords or a primitive deep memory of being prey to flying preditors. The scene in the Lord of the Rings when the Hobbits are save by giant eagles stirs the blood. When I see a hawk or falcon, I know the natural world is still somewhat in balance.

Mountain Lions and Bears

My first sighting of a cougar/mountain lion! 

On our way home from a very nice Christmas Eve dinner with friends, a lion bounded across the road and climbed a high bank to disappear into the trees. Big as a Great Dane, with a low-slung, sleek tan body, what struck me most was the size of its tail. It was as long as an axe-handle and waved about keeping the lion balanced as it climbed.  

Orianne, my wife, has seen lions many times, but this is my first in 16 years living in the Rocky Mountain foothills above Boulder. We have distant neighbors who seem convinced that the local lions are about to gang up and eat them. They sent out flyers detailing the imminent attacks a few years ago.  So far, the local lions don’t seem to bother humans much.  They do take a cat or small dog now and then.  You see the rather sad notices on the electric poles around the neighborhood asking for news of lost pets.   

Most attacks on people take place in remote areas of Colorado where the lions have had little human contact.  Usually it is on a child or jogger running alone down an empty trail.  From the lion’s point of view, the runner looks like strange, spooked prey. We have two children who have grown up in the mountains.  They have wandered and played in the pine forests around the house all their lives, without fear.