middleblog-a suburban babble brook book

The Wild Things

Recently I've begun smoking primarily outside again (I say primarily, because as I type a cigarette burns in front of me...but hey, it's cold out there!).  This is a good thing in many respects, most prominently my observation of the wild ones out the back door.  I've often thought the one thing I will hate most about quitting smoking is those stolen moments of peace outside, listening to the rustlings in the night.  Tonight, I saw a sleek little raccoon, cheerfully bumbling his way through my garden.  To confirm my identification of the shadow, I turned the outside light on, and he turned his quizzical mask towards me with a faint look of consternation before ambling away.  Cute fellows, the raccoons, and while I was sure we had them, I hadn't seen one til tonight.  Spirit the feral cat has resurfaced from the forest; he's been showing up regularly for several days at his kibble bowl.  I look forward to spotting the foxes, and probably the coyotes, soon.  Altho...I often wonder if the dog pen (comprised of two large chainlink pens wrapped around the side of the house in crazy extravagance...) is any deterrence to the wild ones...  They all come to visit the midden, anyway;  I see Mr. Fox's prints in the snow.