Wimbley

Living out in the country as we do, It's easy to form mental attachments to certain wild creatures.  The latest one to tug at our heartstrings is a young raccoon.  We're calling him Wimbley.  I noticed him Tuesday as I was throwing corn out for the creatures.  It seemed strange that he was out in the full daylight, and even stranger that he didn't run from me.  Instead, he ambled to an old oak tree nearby and climbed slowly, resting frequently, to a crotch in the tree, about 20 feet up. 

 I saw him the next day, briefly, and then, on Thursday, there was a showdown.  While he was eating, a short distance from the same tree, 7 vultures surrounded him.  We seldom see those ugly creatures close to the house, and I wondered, not for the first time, about Wimbley's well being.  But he certainly had spunk.  While a wild turkey provided backup, he tried to intimidate the vultures with his fiercest snarl.  When that didn't deter them, he simply ignored them, and ate his corn.  One by one, they shuffled off.

Wimbley was staying closer to the base of the tree today, and no surprise, we discovered he has an injured front leg.  Most likely, he was abandoned by his family when they moved to a different location, and he couldn't make the trip.  Now, he has a little water, and a little dog food, and a new name.  And of course, a little piece of our hearts.

Battling the Window

Yesterday Don was showing houses to an engaging family, and I joined them for lunch at Cookies, a local restaurant. We always enjoy eating there. Besides having very good food, Cookies is like the local version of Cheers; it's a place where everybody knows your name.  

After lunch, Don went back to work and I returned home. When I opened the front door, Barley greeted me, and he seemed a little nervous. Then I heard some thumping sounds coming from downstairs, so I went down to investigate. Barley stayed behind me in case it was dangerous. I followed the sounds to the spare room, and was met by a strange sight. Just outside, a large turkey gobbler was banging away at the window. Apparently, he wanted to do battle with his reflection, and he must have been quite puzzled that his opponent wouldn't give him a fair fight.

Wild turkeys have sharp eyesight, and they frequently react to the slightest movement we make indoors, even from a distance, but this warrior was so focused on his fight that he didn't even seem to notice me. I suppose that's what emboldened me to go outside and try to sneak up on him for a better picture. When I rounded the corner of the house, he ran away. No surprise. Greed is never pretty.