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Life is full of disturbances. Out here in the country fortunately, they usually involve dropping everything to look at some form of wildlife, which is a welcome interruption.
But I can’t say I ever expected to find my endeavours disrupted by a peacock.
His first visit was a surprise. We figured he’d escaped from his home and come to answer the distressed calls of the lonely boy that lives on the farm up the road. After introducing himself and inspecting our premises, the visitor continued his sedate march up the hill.
From that day, the plaintive cries ceased, so we concluded that the visitor had remained with his new friend, which made his appearance some six weeks later an even bigger surprise in a way, because where had he been all that time if he hadn’t attached to the farm?
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After the first visit, we’d discussed the sort of refreshments one might offer a peacock, half hoping but not expecting that we would see him again.
So, when the boy re-appeared, I took him out a bag of golden raisins which went down very well, along with a hard-boiled egg.
And on that occasion, I named him Raplph.
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Ralph has called several times since those initial visits, so we look out for him now. He pecks hungrily at the food we offer and has even taken take raisins from my hand, but I think as much as anything, he rather likes company, because even though there is food still on offer, he comes to stare in through the door and sometimes calls out, aiming apparently at the house, not the peacock up the hill.
So, I sit down on the hard ground to converse with him. I began talking to birds as a little girl when we had budgies, amused that they put their heads on one side, listening. Ever since, I have felt that birds are special creatures.
In return, Ralph leaves me feathers. Some are soft and fluffy and some are brightly coloured. I have picked up quite a variety of feathers over the years.
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Wild turkeys have left me not a few.
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Two turkeys come by fairly regularly, usually twice a day to graze and sometimes to rest.
In fact, we believe there are two visiting pairs. The two that come most often are female, but I noticed one day that our visitors were developing a snood, identifying them as male.
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Meanwhile, the creche roams around in the field we cross to get to the state route, 9 babies in the company of four or five adult females.
Last year, they came to graze in our field, so we’d been hoping they would come up the hill again and this morning they made it for the first time.
🙂
One thing I soon came to realise, living in the country, is that there is no such thing as usual. Not with the weather, and certainly not with wildlife.
Fortunately, I have never been inclined to take anything for granted, so when animals we are accustomed to seeing don’t turn up, I accept it as a change in the pattern of things.
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Sadly, this is sometimes the result of a rabies outbreak. We know this reduced the raccoon population 7 years ago and we assume it has had the same affect on skunks this year, – our sweet stinky little friends.
It is hard to bear, but that is the price of developing a fondness for wild animals.
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How enchanted we were with foxes last year! The kits were born behind the garage and we had the sheer delight of watching them play and grow up. It was unexpected and wonderful.
The only kit we saw up here this year was lying dead at the edge of the woods on the hill. There was no obvious cause of its demise, but afterwards we saw less and less of the adult foxes. The trail-cam caught one down the field one night recently, but I haven’t seen one near the house for a long time.
We are grateful they stayed with us for a season.
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When we weren’t watching foxes last year, the groundhogs could be counted on to entertain us. In the Spring five babies emerged from the burrow in front of the kitchen window. They are quite the most endearing creatures.
But no sooner did the groundhog babies emerge this year, than they disappeared, all of them at once, which makes us feel they moved to a different burrow. The hill is peppered with them and the one in front of the kitchen had perhaps become too public.
Groundhog burrows are used by a variety of other creatures, but two small access holes used by chipmunks got gradually wider until a large adult groundhog could easily fit through it and I suspect this made the burrow a little draughty and I daresay no longer felt all that safe, so we weren’t all that surprised to see it abandoned.
But how we miss watching the groundhog babies tumbling about.
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We had Baldy instead.
This was him in September last year.
We worried that without a thick coat, he would not survive the Winter.
It was so cold for so long.
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So when he showed up on March 30th, we were much relieved, although he appeared to have lost even more fur and in fact continued to.
How does one assist a groundhog with alopecia?
Trapping the poor creature would likely have made the rest fall out.
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We ensured he always had carrots and peanuts and kept an eye out for him.
A month after his awakening from hibernation, his bare skin seemed to be flaking, but it looked healthier.
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Now we began to worry about sunburn.
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Over the Summer, the rest of Baldy’s hair fell out, but at the same time it was growing back into those bare patches.
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And eventually, we had a normal-looking groundhog, except for one thing. Baldy has no tail, which is now the only way we can identify him.
Under the circumstances, I decided we had to change his name and the obvious one was:
Gary. Gary Baldy.
It would be a happier ending if I could say we’d seen him recently, but it’s been a month now.
However, we know that he is a travelling lad, as he turns up in many different places, so hopefully he’s just settled down in a nice quiet burrow where no-one can spy on him.
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