Last Rites

Yesterday my first glance out of the window showed me a squirrel napping on its side in the backyard.

And napping. And napping. Not the most typical behavior for a tree dweller. We have some pretty darn tall trees here, so I surmised that he (she?) was the victim of an over-ambitious jump.

          I decided not to look out the window for a while, and especially not to view this as a portent for the year ahead.

          This morning only a scrap of white was visible. An owl in the night? That bobcat I saw a few months ago? After a bit I heard the clucking that signals a visit from the turkey population. Sure enough, the gang of twenty was on its way across the backyard common area. This looked to be all females and teenagers, without the three amigo bachelors.

          They pecked and plucked their way toward our yard, and then a vanguard of about ten spotted the killing field. Unlike the heartless squirrel relatives, who’ve been zipping along the edge of the woods like nothing happened, this group was concerned. 

     They gathered in a circle around the remains, drew away, and circled again. More joined them, the hens poking the young ones away when they drew too close. Finally, after much back-and-forthing, they withdrew to the woods rather than walk past. I later spotted them on the other side of our yard, continuing their pilgrimage through the complex.