Nest Sitting

A hummingbird guards its nest made less than 6 feet from the ground on a slender branch of a potted ficus tree.

Today in Bad Nature Photography

The hummingbird that buzzed me repeatedly as I tried to photograph a hibiscus flower.  

Maybe it wanted the flower.  Maybe it was just having fun.  The fact that it ended up almost center frame is indicative of dumb luck rather than skill.  Those critters move damned fast.  Tack sharp focus would have been too much to ask.

Where's the Hookah?

This fine specimen was making free with the dill, which was not a problem since there was plenty to share and no immediate plans to use it for anything in particular.





We think it becomes one of these:

"This is not a boat accident ... and it wasn't Jack the Ripper!" [Guess Who Came to Dinner, Part 2]

Guess Who Came to Dinner

So when the solar fountain stopped working and the pond plants were laid to waste, suspicion initially fell on a neighbor's dog. Not only was this dog allowed to roam the neighborhood at will, he was twice caught at the scene of the crime.

A fence and barricade were put up to keep the neighbor dog out. However, the destruction continued.

It was a puzzlement.

Then one night, as we were turning off lights, locking doors and preparing to retire, we heard a splash in the pond. We rushed out the front door and surprised three intruders who looked very much like this:






This photo was taken several nights later, juggling the camera in one hand and a reading lamp on an extension cord in the other. The fact that these creatures just don't sit still also made things interesting (so pardon the blur).

We have had several raccoon encounters since. It is worth noting that these critters have no fear of human beings. (One of them very boldly sat up on its hind legs, tried to stare us down, then went about its business -- which included fishing plants and snails from the pond and eating them.) They are much larger than wildlife documentaries make them appear. Given that they are also potential carriers of rabies, it's best to keep a safe distance from them.

One night last week, we suffered the raccoon equivalent of the loud party. The critters spent much of the night thumping across the roof, chasing each other through the trees, and eating their fill at the pond. This was followed by an orgy in the driveway. (Among the raccoon's repertoire of sounds are the types of grunts and squeals normally associated with pigs. Judging by the volume and intensity of the grunts and squeals heard that night, those raccoons were getting it on.)

We're now hoping they will take the party somewhere else. Soon.

Flying Rats with Big Fluffy Tails

Way back in 1989, after seven years of living in a freeway-adjacent apartment (where the wildlife consisted of the pitbull across the hall, the alcoholics in the unit above and the urchins in the building next door), it was a relief to move into a rental house in a less urban part of the city. Although it was by no means perfect, that house had a private backyard surrounded by trees and tall shrubs.

And where you have trees, you have squirrels.

Initially, the squirrels were enchanting: running in spirals up and down the tree trunks, dashing across too-slender branches, and leaping from tree to tree. Even the chittering and the sound of claws skittering across the roof were no bother.

Then we took up container gardening, and ambivalence entered our relationship with the squirrels - because where you have potted plants and you have squirrels, you will have digging and hoarding. Squirrels do not care about the bulbs or seedlings already residing in a pot; all they see is a convenient place to stash some snacks. The returning squirrel often forgets exactly where it left its stash, so it will excavate several locations in its search (and no, it does not refill the holes when it's done). Sometimes the stashed nut or seed remains hidden and sprouts. Ever have an unidentified tree spring up where you did not plant one? Thank you-know-who, the unintentional guerrilla gardener.





As for this fellow, we caught him casing the pots on the front patio of our current home. When we shooed him off with a scolding, he ran onto the tree limb hanging near the front door and scolded us right back. Cheeky little bastard.