We're Surrounded

     We live in what is classified as suburbia, outside of a small city that’s 20 minutes away.
I can walk to the center of town – one Revolutionary War statue, one coffee shop, one gas station, one cleaners, one quick mart – as long as I’m willing to labor back up the long hill that leads to our street.

          And yet with an acre of our own woods, and the others of our neighbors, it can feel pretty rural. Wild Tom turkeys usher their womenfolk through our yard looking for whatever acorns the squirrels haven’t carried off. We’ve learned to plant daffodils, since anyone foolish enough to plant tulips will only end up with stems, thanks to the deer drifting by. 

          Spring sounds here are beginning to crank up. I hear bird song when I wake up, and our afternoons are now often punctuated by the “Who cooks for you?” call of a barred owl. (sample) I thought owls were nocturnal, but apparently this one didn’t get the memo.

          Today we glanced through the window and there in the big oak by our driveway sat the insomniac himself. He’d picked a good spot. I’m surprised the chipmunks that scurry incessantly back and forth from the garden on the hill to the one by the tree haven’t worn a path. My husband’s car parked in the middle is also a popular way station, so any owl that wants to hover over that area has my blessing. We’ve already had to replace cables and a heater motor, thanks to critter nibbling and nesting.

          I love owls anyway. I like their cuddly round shape, and their child-like faces, so this sighting was a real treat. 

          But another more surprising, and definitely less welcome sight was our next door neighbor’s. She showed remarkable reflexes in getting this picture. 

         

 Yep, that’s a bobcat strolling up our suburban street.