It takes a true encounter to realize that real animals, wild, animals have all but passed from our lives. – John Burnside, Scottish writer (1955-)
Here with wildlife all around her and magic sweet in the air like good cider, she felt her lines and colours returning, her edges darkening, her core filling in. – Emma Torzs, Writer, teacher, waitress (1987-)
It was getting dark while I fixed supper. Time had gotten away from me and I needed to bring Wilhelmina, the cat, indoors. She likes to slink around in the dark and hide. It’s not safe so I usually try to entice her inside with a snack. That will be it for going outside once she’s inside. She doesn’t like it very much and will look forlorn through the windows and glass doors. She thinks the dark is when all the fun begins and daytime is good for naps but that’s not so. Outside in the night is the dangerous time. Creatures up to no good are out there.
After supper I went to hunt for her, she can be a tricky little thing. I worry about her; her vision has not been good since she was a kitten but she can hear amazingly well. Sometimes she stops and stares. She can hear someone coming crunching through the dead leaves but has no idea who or what it is. When I call out her name she comes running. At least most of the time. There are nights I grab the big flashlight so I can pan the area for those eyes. She’ll be hiding somewhere or hunkered down behind a tree, under the house, or next to the compost pile.
Deer come to the feeder usually early morning or twilight. Earlier I had spun the wheel to scatter corn on the ground. The feeder has a timer where it slings corn kernels out but I thought I’d add a bit extra. That night I aimed the flashlight looking for Wilhelmina. I focused on the deer feeder where I saw something low near the ground with two shining yellow eyes. Couldn’t be a deer, couldn’t be Wilhelmina. Wilhelmina is not interested in corn. Ah ha, a raccoon for sure. They’ve been known to climb up a tree, or a rail, and knock corn out of the feeder. That night I walked toward the critter and watched him hightail it to the sedge field. No doubt he visits often.
No deer had fed that night. We often have somewhere between one or two or up to a dozen. It’s been deer hunting season. The numbers may have gone down. I always hope the deer will come and feed. They are such beautiful animals and to think they take care of themselves. Unlike domesticated creatures like Wilhelmina. I don’t think she could feed herself or stay safe. As I write this, she is curled up behind me on the sofa. She’s soaking in the sun and waiting for nightfall.
The weather has been wild this season-ice, snow, winds, cold, warmth. Iris foliage is bursting out. Changes are noticeable. Fall brought no bodock balls. None at all. Squirrels eat bodock balls but there were very few squirrels; almost no grays and a few fox squirrels. I haven’t seen or heard coyotes or eagles. Prairie, it changes, always changing.
Shannon Bardwell is a writer living quietly in the Prairie. Email reaches her at [email protected].
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Quality, in-depth journalism is essential to a healthy community. The Dispatch brings you the most complete reporting and insightful commentary in the Golden Triangle, but we need your help to continue our efforts. In the past week, our reporters have posted 34 articles to cdispatch.com. Please consider subscribing to our website for only $2.30 per week to help support local journalism and our community.
