Tag: animals

I’ve blogged about squirrels in my yard, which I see on a daily basis and rabbits in my yard, which I see almost as often. This is not the case with raccoons. I’ve never seen a raccoon near my house, at least not until a couple weeks ago.

I was outside as dawn was peaking forth, setting the lawn sprinklers for the day. Not fully awake, I walked around my house, looked up, and was startled to see a raccoon lumbering across my yard, headed in my direction.

I froze. What should I do?

Do I yell to scare him off? Chase him away? Ignore him?

In my early morning stupor, I conjured up a comedy/horror skit, which flooded my mind.

I envisioned him rearing up on his hind legs and running towards me. With lightning quickness he would attack, mouth foaming and eyes ablaze with anger.

Before I could react, he would leap into the air, hit my chest, and pin me to the ground. Then he would…

I shuttered, trying to shake my over-active imagination from my foggy mind. It was not logical but filled me with fear just the same.

I clapped once to get his attention. He looked up with a start. He, too, was in a predawn stupor. To my relief, he made a U-turn and waddled out of sight. He was not full-grown, but with quite a tummy on him, he was apparently well-fed.

I recalled my next-door neighbor catching two adult raccoons in her live animal trap earlier this spring. I wondered if those were his folks. The trap was still set in her yard, ready for a third, but this lad was too clever.

If he was an orphan, he was doing okay, avoiding capture and finding plenty to eat.

Mr. Raccoon, I hope you have a long life and a happy life—just do it in someone else’s yard.

Do you like this post? Want to read more? Check out Peter’s book, Bridging the Sacred-Secular Divide: Discovering the Spirituality of Every Day Life, available wherever books are sold.

Peter DeHaan writes about biblical Christianity to confront status quo religion and live a life that matters. He seeks a fresh approach to following Jesus through the lens of Scripture, without the baggage of made-up traditions and meaningless practices.

Read more in his books, blog, and weekly email updates.

“Can we have a garden?” My bride’s question caught me off guard. We’ve not had a garden for 25 years, not since we moved house.

“No!” was my emphatic reply. I wasn’t about to dig up the lawn for a garden; plus our rapidly expanding maple trees provided too much shade for there to be any good garden space.

At first home, we did have a garden. This was partly because it came with one and because anything we could do to stretch our food budget was a good thing.

The garden took a lot of work, which I think fell mostly to me. The toil required for a nice garden was not a surprise; as a child, I’d seen the hours my dad spent on his, but then he enjoyed it—I do not.

It was fun to plant and fun to pick, but everything else was a chore, which I was glad to skip.

My wife was not dissuaded by my total lack of support. A few days later she proudly announced she’d planted beans in her flower garden, a small spot under our picture window.

She normally plants annuals there; then she diverted the space for her micro-garden.

About a week later, I saw the beginnings of plants, a nice straight row of delicate tiny sprouts. They were definitely not beans.

“Oh, I planted beets, too,” she beamed.

Later the beans popped up and the rabbits quickly found them, gnawing some plants down the ground.

The internet suggested human hair would serve as an effective bunny-be-gone. That night I was given a haircut.

I don’t know how long the scent will remain on my hair to repel the rabbits, but I hope it’s a couple of weeks, giving my hair time to grow enough to produce the next crop of bunny repellent.

Do you like this post? Want to read more? Check out Peter’s book, Bridging the Sacred-Secular Divide: Discovering the Spirituality of Every Day Life, available wherever books are sold.

Peter DeHaan writes about biblical Christianity to confront status quo religion and live a life that matters. He seeks a fresh approach to following Jesus through the lens of Scripture, without the baggage of made-up traditions and meaningless practices.

Read more in his books, blog, and weekly email updates.

Last fall, I posted a picture of the burning bush in my yard. Of course, it looks different now; the leaves have all fallen off and bare twigs are exposed to the elements—and to the rabbits.

It seems that my burning bush has become a favorite hangout for the rabbits in my neighborhood. It’s not that I’ve ever seen them there, but I have seen where they bed down for the night.

I’ve also see where they have nibbled on the bush—and I see their droppings that result as they digest their nibbles. They have left piles of evidence. 

Although a bit unsightly, it should provide a nice supply of natural fertilizer for the bush come this spring.

It doesn’t surprise me that the bunnies are eating the bush. This has been a common sight over the years. In a harsh winter, I’ve even seen them eat an entire burning bush, albeit a small one.

It would seem that they consider the tender twigs as a preferred delicacy.

Fortunately, the larger more aged branches are either too big or not palatable, so my bush is not in danger of being completely devoured and the lower branched that have been eaten will not cause a problem.

Even so, it is the top of the bush that is need of a trim. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to have the rabbits eat the top and not the bottom. That would save me some extra work in the spring.

But lacking four feet of snow—to cover all but its upper reaches—it looks like I’ll be the one doing the trimming.

Those cwazy wabbits.

Do you like this post? Want to read more? Check out Peter’s book, Bridging the Sacred-Secular Divide: Discovering the Spirituality of Every Day Life, available wherever books are sold.

Peter DeHaan writes about biblical Christianity to confront status quo religion and live a life that matters. He seeks a fresh approach to following Jesus through the lens of Scripture, without the baggage of made-up traditions and meaningless practices.

Read more in his books, blog, and weekly email updates.

Over the past month, its been quite dry here, during which time we have accumulated less than a half of inch of rain. 

As such, I have been spending more time than usual watering my lawn, dragging hoses around every hour or so in an effort to keep in green.

An interesting side effect of this is that I have enjoyed a lot of activity of baby birds in my lawn—more so than I would have guessed on my small sub-division plot of land.

Usually when I see a baby bird in the grass, it seems abandoned, having been left to fend for itself. (And since I’ve seen nary a dead bird this year, they have likely fended quite well). 

However, twice I have witnessed baby birds who, although out of their nest, were still under mom and dad’s care, as the parents were providing a stead supply of food. 

One bird seemed to grow by the hour and after a couple of days, he was gone, apparently having become mature enough to fly away. All that has left was a pile of droppings where he had been sitting in the grass.

Sometimes the babies are either too young to be afraid or too petrified to move. All they do is watch me as I walk around. I’ve gotten within a couple feet of them and they still don’t move—they just blink. One was perched on my hose. 

Unable to get him to move, I gently pulled the hose—and he hung on tightly for several feet.

Another time, a baby wren was randomly hopping around looking for food. A parent was following behind, gradually leaving more and more of a gap. When junior flew off, so did his parental unit.

What has amazed me most is when I likely witness a bird’s first flight. (These are a bit older and bigger then the ones that just watch me.) 

As I approach these birds, they get a bit excited. Perhaps they hop a bit or flap their wings, but they don’t fly. 

As I get closer, their movement becomes more panicked, with them jumping higher and flapping more furiously; still flight eludes them. As I move even closer, they put forth more effort.

This time they might actually rise a couple inches off the ground. 

In their next effort they fly a few fluttering feet. Then farther and eventually they successfully fly to a nearby tree.

Oh, in case you are wondering about the Mourning Doves, they eventually produced an offspring and soon left the secluded confines of their nest.

Do you like this post? Want to read more? Check out Peter’s book, Bridging the Sacred-Secular Divide: Discovering the Spirituality of Every Day Life, available wherever books are sold.

Peter DeHaan writes about biblical Christianity to confront status quo religion and live a life that matters. He seeks a fresh approach to following Jesus through the lens of Scripture, without the baggage of made-up traditions and meaningless practices.

Read more in his books, blog, and weekly email updates.