I glanced out a front window yesterday around noon just in time to see a large raccoon walking down the snow-covered dirt road. It didn’t seem to be in any big hurry to get anywhere, nor did it appear to be distressed. It simply kept its nose to the ground as it ambled slowly but resolutely along. I watched it for quite some time, amazed that I was seeing one of these nocturnal creatures out and about in broad daylight, and I wondered what force had compelled it to leave its den in the middle of the day. Raccoons generally spend the day resting, but something had definitely disrupted this particular one’s routine. I looked around thinking I’d see some other predator or perhaps a neighbor’s dog lurking about, but nothing stirred other than the solitary raccoon. I finally lost sight of it as it moved past the garage and wasn’t privy as to what direction it took from there.
Early this morning, I was awakened by the insistent barking of a fox, and I realized that the sound was coming from the general direction from which I’d observed the raccoon emerging earlier in the day. I pondered the possibilities ”¦ that the raccoon was female and had been driven out by the fox to look for a safer place to breed. Or maybe the raccoon was male and decided that having a fox close by was cramping its mating style or competing for food, as raccoons will sometimes consume any prey left behind by a fox.
Later in the day, I was outside scraping my icy back porch, sending chunks of it cascading down the frozen back hill, and noticed a small animal dash across the crusty snow. At first, I thought it was a red squirrel, but when it stopped briefly to observe what I was doing, I saw the unmistakable markings of a chipmunk. It ran up and down the slope a few times, then disappeared around a corner of the foundation. Its appearance was yet another sign that, in the animal kingdom at least, things are happening in anticipation of winter’s end.
As I was going inside, a loud caw made me look up as a raven soared over the bare treetops, it shadow sweeping across the landscape as it passed in front of the setting sun. While a raven looks like very much like an oversized crow, its voice is quite different, not as high-pitched, clear and insistent like the crow’s but deeper, slower and more raspy, as though the bird has a sore throat. It glided gracefully beyond the trees, flapping its wings only once or twice, allowing the wind to carry it along. Until that moment, I’d only heard a raven, so finally seeing one was a gift that added to the thrill of seeing all the renewed activity in these woods as spring approaches.
The next day, a movement drew my eye to the trees across the road as a fox scurried along the small ridge there. It kept low to the snow crust, dodging shrubs and making its way across fallen limbs and exposed rocks. Chipmunks often become a meal for foxes, but the tiny creatures aren’t out yet in great enough numbers to be easy prey. With the heavy rains predicted for the next few days, I will most likely be seeing more bare ground opening up, which will be a welcome sight, and will afford the wild creatures more opportunities to find food.
Although the thermometer reported a low this morning of minus four degrees, there is a distinct change in the feel of this late winter cold, its touch slightly warmer against my skin. The earth is lifting her face to the sun a bit more each day, and even the coldest day offers brief brushings with the warmth that is to come. Despite the cold temperature, some of the ice on the dirt road melted yesterday, and I was able to stay outside a little longer after bringing wood in. Yes, spring is definitely in the air.
”“ Rachel Lovejoy is a freelance writer living in Lyman. She can be reached via e-mail at rlovejoy84253@roadrunner.com
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