Bartering with Critters

A short essay with videos

The critters we have, not the ones we wish we had

In the twisted and impossibly crooked branches of the cherry tree that grows between the yard’s chainlink fence and the concrete driveway, two red bird feeders, one definitely squirrel-proof and one decidedly not, hang and the “spillage” from them nourish all sorts of critters day and night.

The tree umbrellas: Cardinals, Blue Jays, Mourning Doves, House Sparrows, Finches, Crows, Chickadees, Juncos, Wrens. American Robins come for the worms that surface because of the extra-wet dirt around the solar-powered green bird bath that looks like a frog is spitting water. At night the opossums, raccoons, mice, and neighborhood cats do a walk through.

(Video of nocturnal critters, plus bonus silly duck footage.)

And naturally squirrels and ducks come, too. These seemingly everyday, mundane visitors have full lives as well as backstories.

Duck Drama

Ducks bring drama. A pair consistently come for breakfast and dinner. Every once in a while another drake harasses the hen who looks about as exasperated as any female who finds herself in such a situation. Sometimes a second pair shows up as well as other superfluous drakes, who try to improve their genetic status with daily squabbles and pursuits. They are all beautiful—a drake mallard is obviously with his flashy green anterior and curly-q posterior. The hen, though shades of brown, is equally spectacular with shimmering feathers enveloping her small body that is undoubtedly getting ready to lay down some eggs in a nest hidden away next to a body of water. Is it wrong I wish they’d nest in the yard? Yes, given that all I have to offer is the constant threat of two dogs.

(Video of ducks being dramatic on the street and then one of them “comes right for me!” May 30, 2025.)

One day one of the hens showed up with a limp. She could not put weight on her left foot. After calculating that I probably couldn’t catch her properly to take her to the Wildlife Rehab Center and further I didn’t want to kidnap a hen from her drake, who would undoubtedly see me kidnap her and would harass me until she came back, if she came back, I decided I would keep an eye on her and make sure there’s plenty of food and clean water for her. Luckily in a couple days the limp was enormously improved. Wu Wei at work?

Grey and Black Kits in a Drey

The squirrels have also paired up and every yard has at least one tree with a squirrel nest, a drey, in it. In a family, the parents must tell their children, their kits, about the dangers of paved ground. Paved ground is human ground; they made it and they move by unnatural means on top of wheels and plastic and metal that kill, I imagine they explain to the kits.

One “mixed” family had both grey and black kits who grew up in the maple tree next to my deck. The deck is on top of the garage which brought myself and the dogs up close to their drey. This yielded footage of baby squirrels learning how to climb around, up, down, and jump trunk-to-trunk in a tree. They have since moved someplace else, probably to get away from B’s constant gaze.

(Video of kits playing in the tree; the drey is the hole in the trunk. May 12, 2025. For more kit action, please see my notes.)

Beatrix: Always on duty

Where do I, a mere human, fit in?

We live with them. They live with us. Their presence brings us humans joy. We offer a few seeds in return.

I want to live in the woods

I want to live in the woods, but for now I live here, in the heart of a suburb, a suburb that regularly serves as a highway for deer, turkeys, and sandhill cranes and, of course, Canada geese. “I wish things were different,” I blurted out recently, but usually I don’t blurt out such things. Reality needs to be accepted before change can happen. I’m happy bartering with these critters here and now.

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