Nature's Wisdom Summer, 2007 Vol. 6 Issue 2
by Sarah Anne Edwards
"A friend to the wind and the sky’s my home, traveling down this road"
I'm Gone. Chris Tompkins and Bo Bice
Lessons of Summer:
Might Needn't Make Right
A Separate Peace: Neither Bullies nor Buddies
Setting Boundaries; Making AccommodationsThere is a young squirrel cavorting on our deck. Yes, cavorting. I had to dig into the back shelves of my vocabulary to locate that word I use it so rarely, but there is no better way to describe for what this squirrel is doing right now, bouncing up and down and twisting all around.
What I love most about summer is that we can throw open all the windows and let the outside come in. It's like living on a screened in porch. And we can take the indoors outside, too. Eat breakfast on the deck. Visit with friends on the front porch. Even work, or nap, outdoors.
This means we see much a lot more of our
fellow property dwellers and get better acquainted with them. Most of the regulars are here with us again this summer. Our front yard is home to a young bunny, a robin, a pair of chip monks, a flock of quail with many newborns, a very quiet almost invisible brown bird, and two chipmunks who live under the porch. Then, of course, there are bats that live in the eaves of the porch. They are always here at the first sign of spring and they're the last of the summer creatures to leave in the fall.
When I step out to get the newspaper in the morning there’s a flutter of activity as all these creatures scurry or flutter out of sight. But I know they’re there and soon they'll venture back out.
In back are the grey squirrels, Squirrel Girl and Bashful Boy, probably the cavorter’s parents. The raucous Stellar’s jays, ever-present and always hungry. Two pairs of Acorn woodpeckers who hang like acrobats off the hummingbird feeder and gulp down its red nectar. A melodious flock of Red-Wing Black Birds who
sing in harmony every evening around five-o-clock. Another flock of quail, this one with many adolescents, all chitt, chitt chitting to one another to be sure they don’t get left behind. A pair of redtail hawks. And the night-visitors – a large-footed raccoon, a bullfrog and a Barn Owl. Among others.
Sharing both back and front are the Monarchs and the Swallowtails who flit to and from, visiting the Butterfly bushes.
In addition to these regulars, we also have quite a few new neighbors this year. A colony of swallows. A pair of Scarlet Tanagers. A male mule deer. Usually only the doe and her fawns come to the meadow, but this year a young buck is visiting too.
I’m telling you about all our fellow property dwellers, not just because I love to talk about these delightful creatures, but because once again they, and others I have yet to mention, have taught us yet another lesson of nature.
The many who dwell here on this little acre all get along quite well with each other and with us. Neither full-out bullies nor bosom buddies, they are strikingly respectful of each other at the same time very protective of their personal territories. And herein lies my lessons this summer. We found ourselves needing to define and protect our personal territory too. First there are the ants and the mice, who see no difference between our kitchen and the forest. Then there are the spiders, who like to weave their homes in ours, and the ground squirrels, who are unaware that in building their homes they are undermining the foundation of ours. Finally, there are the bats who we were told can carry of the Hanta virus.
“Just kill them, for Pete’s sake!" we were advised by some. "Get rid of them.” But that didn't sit well with me. I admit I tend to lean too far the other way. I like them all. I'm happy to share. But it's a very dry, hot summer this year and our home invasion was truly getting out of hand. Still, the rest of this diverse community seems to be avoiding these two extremes, handling the influx of more residents without resorting to murder and mayhem. They seem to know how to protect themselves, set boundaries, and otherwise live and let live. This is something we humans seem to know far less about. How to both protect ourselves and respect the rights and lives of others creatures. So I was determined to learn.
We learned how to use humane traps for catching the house mice and set them free far into the forest. We figured out how to bundle the spiders up in a cloth or jar and take them outside. We learned that ground squirrel hate the smell of mothballs and will move elsewhere if you put some in their burrows. So far so good. Except for the ants. We’ve yet to find a way to communicate or define limits with them, so sadly we set out poisonous honey and they’re gone, for now.
As for the bats, we put a bat house up on the side of the house. We left lights on throughout the night shining directed on the eaves of the porch. At midnight after they'd left to hunt, we sealed all the crevices in the eaves so there’s no room for any nests.
The result: The bats won’t be leaving. They are nesting elsewhere, but come to the eaves of the porch every night to “hangout,” just as they have since before we moved in. So every morning I sweep the porch.
The lesson: Might need not make right, but neither does forgetting our own needs.If we ignore our well-being, others will take it as permission to move on in. After all, it's summer, the doors and windows are wide open. We're sharing a huge home made of earth and sky. Others are as determined as we to find their place and their space here. But we also need to have to be tolerant and accommodating. So, the bats will stay, but so are we.
We can live peacefully together only by carefully drawing and respecting each other's boundaries, which means being ever vigilant. Vigilance abounds here in this forest.
The creatures we live with are so very attentive. Always "awake" to the world around them, alert to everything and every one, but never losing sight of their own intents.Hmm. Sounds like valuable lessons for living with humankind as well.
Here's to Life!
Summer Blessings,
Sarah
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