Backyard Habitat
Ma and me got a sign down by the road that identifies us as a Backyard Habitat. I think folks who are official members are spozed to put up bird feeders and robin bubble baths. You need to have more than just a damn backyard with a bbq and lawn chairs is what they’re saying. But you don’t need a whole lot more….
I didn’t really want to join the Backyarders, but the mizzus insisted. The more backyards they got signed up, she argued, they could qualify as … I don’t know … a real woods or something. We got 7 acres of real woods and more woods next to that woods. Coyotes and deer and raccoons and squirrels and porcupines and all kinds of varmints who enjoy our backyard fruit and vegetables more than they do the sparse pickings back in the wilderness. I don’t want to get all snobby, but a backyard habitat isn’t going to fire up my tired blood. I didn’t come to the South End to feed squirrels from a bird feeder. They don’t need welfare, they need to be left alone. I’d much prefer they steal from me than wait for handouts.
This year we got a velvet horn buck who thinks maybe I’m the one stealing from him. He chomps on our plums and apples about 10 feet away from me and when I offer him a fresh one, damn if he doesn’t eat it right out of my hand like he expects to be served. He’ll be wanting a napkin next.
I guess all of us on the wild wild South End are more and more gentrified these days. That, or we all realize now that we’re being threatened with backyard confinement, we’d better learn to live together. Probably won’t be long before we put up bird feeders…. I just dread the day when they feed us.
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