Visits In The Night

Day 68: Snow and frost tell the story of an unseen group of visitors prowling the yard at night. Prints leading to tender shrubs, to the bird feeders and to the recycling and trash bins testify to a hidden population of larger creatures who are searching for easy food. I seldom see the raccoons, although the deer make daylight appearances, and an occasional elk wanders through. It is harder to find tracks in the months when the bear and cougar are active, although I have found both animals' prints in my driveway (I've seen the cougar's tail as it whipped around the hedge as the cat fled the scene, startled by the security light). A few days ago, I spotted what I was sure were bunny tracks lolloping from the safety of the filbert toward the highway, but no coyote prints followed, although I've heard them singing in the pasture. Each line of progress is a sentence in the greater story authored by the snow. I do not know where it goes, this tale, nor where the tracks lead once they have passed through the chapter of my yard.

Who Goes There?

Day 82: Snow level dropped almost 1000' below the predicted altitude overnight, taking many area residents by surprise, if perhaps not the midnight prowler who has on more than one occasion been responsible for toppling a bird feeder. S/he's a big one, this raccoon, with a hind foot dimension of 4.5 x 2 inches. I've seen the critter shambling about under the big Doug-fir and would estimate its weight (conservatively) at 30 -35 pounds. Raccoons are fairly common in the area, and a good reason to keep small pets indoors if you weren't already doing so. The bird feeders are a big draw to be sure, as are my garbage and recycling bins, the latter smelling of rinsed cat food cans, but both are raccoon-proof. Frustrated, said raccoon has been known to push the garbage bin several feet away from the wall while trying to figure out a way to open it. Raccoon tracks are easy to identify. Their toes splay outward, leaving a print which resembles the five fingers of a human hand. Toenail imprints may also be seen in snow or soil. The hind foot leaves a "heel print," but most commonly, the front paws do not.

Who Goes There?

Day 129: Ah, what a story my yard tells, particularly beneath the bird feeders and on the sidewalk leading to my kitchen door! A fresh dusting of snow last night provided the page on which jays, juncos, towhees, thrushes and a rambling raccoon signed in as guests, their activities criss-crossing so densely that in places, the evidence of their comings and goings became too jumbled to read. Rocky tends to follow a regular beat: enters the yard beneath the crow board, checks for goodies beneath it (a hodgepodge of overlaid tracks), then follows my well-trodden rut through the snow to the clearer sidewalk, there to access the ground beneath the seed trays. I suspect he's making his second stop of the night, the first having been Clyde's back porch where the pickings are somewhat better. Then, ever hopeful that some circumstance has changed in the previous 24 hours, he investigates my recycling bin, the empty cat food cans deliciously odorous but securely out of reach. He exits the yard toward the road, a trench left in the remaining foot of snow showing evidence of repeated passage. The birds, on the other hand, are mostly hoppers, clear imprints of paired feet at regular intervals except for the towhees who give a backward hop to bring scattered seed to the surface. The record of my visitors' pursuits is as interesting to read as a good mystery or spy story: Who goes there, in the dark of night, and with what agenda?