A little bit on the wild side
I'm going to confess something -- I feed wildlife. Not wolves or deer or bear or mountain lion, but possums and raccoons. I know I'm not supposed to. I know all the arguments against it. I know I'm being a bad human. But when I first saw that tiny baby possum hunting for food on my back patio a couple of years ago, I couldn't help it. He was sooooo little, so I started putting out the leftover cat food that I was throwing away in the kitchen garbage bin, which was making me angry at my finicky cats because I don't buy cheap food; I buy good, natural (expensive) food for my cats, and to see it going uneaten into the garbage . . . well, when that baby possum came looking for food, a dynasty was born. He grew up to be a big, beautiful possum who I believe was killed by a car on the busy street that my subdivision fronts. I haven't seen him on my back patio since I saw a dead possum on the road a few months back.
Now, there is another baby possum and a mother raccoon with four babies who come visiting. I have never seen raccoon babies and, just as I was thinking about that in the last week or so, along comes this mother raccoon with her four very healthy babies. She doesn't let them eat the cat food snack, even though they want to. And there is one baby, the runt, who is inquisitive and daydreamy. The first time I saw this family, the mother ate and then took off with what I call the three "soldier" babies in one line, the same space apart, trotting at the same speed right behind their mother. But "Daydreamer" decided he wanted to know what was in the raggedy bowl his mother ate from, and by the time he sniffed and turned around, his family was gone. I saw him following a scent on the leaves in the back yard, but it led him back to my patio. He followed the scent again, and again it led him back to my patio.
So, I decided to help Daydreamer return to his mother and siblings since it seemed he might do this loop forever. I went outside and he scooted away, but not too far. Then he stood up on his hind legs, his front legs curled up on his chest, and he cried for his mother while looking at me, wondering what I was going to do to him, no doubt. He was so small, probably about a foot high; he broke my heart as he whimpered for his mother. I kept pointing to the rotting back fence that barely keeps the wild plants and trees in the nature preserve at bay, telling him to go that way, trying to herd him toward his home. Finally, he trotted toward the back fence, then he stopped, stood up on his hinds legs again and cried for his mother. So, once again I played border collie and herded him to the getaway hole, and finally he found it. I turned and went back to the house, only to see him on the patio a few minutes later. I put some cat food out, figuring if he couldn't find his family, at least he wouldn't go hungry. He ran away when I opened the door, but he came back, ate the food, and left to hopefully find his mother. (He did; I saw him with his family a few days later.)
I never leave out enough food for any wild animal to depend solely on me for sustenance. I'm the waystation, the snack bar, the vending machine. And it's first come, first served; I don't feed every wild animal that shows up on my patio. If my cats ate all their food like good little kitties, there would be no I'm-not-eating-this-you-can't-make-me food to be thrown away. But cats will be cats, and there will always be food not eaten for reasons I'll never know.
Now, there is another baby possum and a mother raccoon with four babies who come visiting. I have never seen raccoon babies and, just as I was thinking about that in the last week or so, along comes this mother raccoon with her four very healthy babies. She doesn't let them eat the cat food snack, even though they want to. And there is one baby, the runt, who is inquisitive and daydreamy. The first time I saw this family, the mother ate and then took off with what I call the three "soldier" babies in one line, the same space apart, trotting at the same speed right behind their mother. But "Daydreamer" decided he wanted to know what was in the raggedy bowl his mother ate from, and by the time he sniffed and turned around, his family was gone. I saw him following a scent on the leaves in the back yard, but it led him back to my patio. He followed the scent again, and again it led him back to my patio.
So, I decided to help Daydreamer return to his mother and siblings since it seemed he might do this loop forever. I went outside and he scooted away, but not too far. Then he stood up on his hind legs, his front legs curled up on his chest, and he cried for his mother while looking at me, wondering what I was going to do to him, no doubt. He was so small, probably about a foot high; he broke my heart as he whimpered for his mother. I kept pointing to the rotting back fence that barely keeps the wild plants and trees in the nature preserve at bay, telling him to go that way, trying to herd him toward his home. Finally, he trotted toward the back fence, then he stopped, stood up on his hinds legs again and cried for his mother. So, once again I played border collie and herded him to the getaway hole, and finally he found it. I turned and went back to the house, only to see him on the patio a few minutes later. I put some cat food out, figuring if he couldn't find his family, at least he wouldn't go hungry. He ran away when I opened the door, but he came back, ate the food, and left to hopefully find his mother. (He did; I saw him with his family a few days later.)
I never leave out enough food for any wild animal to depend solely on me for sustenance. I'm the waystation, the snack bar, the vending machine. And it's first come, first served; I don't feed every wild animal that shows up on my patio. If my cats ate all their food like good little kitties, there would be no I'm-not-eating-this-you-can't-make-me food to be thrown away. But cats will be cats, and there will always be food not eaten for reasons I'll never know.
Comments