The Beauty of Living Creatures...

There are certain wild animals that scurry through my yard or fly through it that I marvel at. The baby cottontails in spring time, the assortment of squirrels, the random coyotes that approach the far regions of the fenced yard down below and of course the ravens.

Ahhh- the ravens. I have become an avid watcher of their behavior. Moms and dads have booked space and created gigantic nests, 30 feet high in a pine tree out front... the same spot used over and over again to hatch out two raven eggs at a time. You know they are there as you see the continuous flight of both male and female tirelessly bringing reeds, small branches, cotton fluffs from who knows where and bits and pieces of paper and other material to build and support Mom and the fledglings weight. Soon they are bringing food and often I see other neighboors spreading out food for the wild ones too.

I've watched a full grown raven fly directly into my thick glass window and die. I cried. I've seen one destroyed by a neighbor dog. But I've also seen two babies- quite large- having been blown from their nest during a wind storm the night before, take up residence in the dogs house out back. Not able to fly- it became their yard for several weeks. Watching them fly for the first time is like watching your own child ride a bike the first time. It's wonderful. One remained with us and frequently posed on the patio- the bird bath or sunned himself on the wall. I called him Trooper.

I've rescued one of Trooper's babies after he fell into the waterfall pond on the patio before he could fly- his parents squawking madly only ten feet above me. He lived in the yard for two weeks, and I set him up in a car tire with sticks like were in his nest and some soft fabric atop the dune buggy on the side of the house where he was safe. Mom would return to feed him often, dad too. He was gawky and scrawny with a slightly hooked beak. I named him Ichabod.

Ichabod is still here. He took over fathering the next crop of kids with Mrs. Ichabod. His first active offspring flew from the nest like a football made out of cement. Flew is not the correct adjective. Fortunately another tree broke his fall. In a day or two he did fly, awkwardly from one tree to another to the skylight on the roof, to the nearby telephone pole eventually. His feathers were all ruffled from crashing through the tree branches and stayed that way. I named him Billy Idol- but I have only seen him return once about a week ago. He is small and his sister (and yes I really have no idea about their gender- I just choose it based on what they look like to me) is plump, but was very hesitant to fly. It took her another week or more to go. I think she might have a problem because she hangs out with her folks still and several weeks have passed. She squawks out to them plaintively and lingers on nearby rooftops or sometimes even on the low patio wall near the birdbath. She has little concept it seems that two big dogs go out there frequently. She does fly well- but I wonder if she has not picked up the knack of gathering food. I probably have it all wrong- who knows. It's just fascinating to see the stories unfold inbetween the many hours I spend actually working.

Most people are aware that animals that we have made our pets, improve our dispositions, our physical and emotional health and extend our lives. The idea that there are people in the world that routinely hurt or kill helpless animals is appalling. It actually hurts me to read about atrocities commited on animals . I'm not saying that I don't care about wrong doing to humans, I'm just voicing disgust about mistreatment of animals .

I have an affinity with dogs. I love the dogs who have graced my life. To be able to speak to them and see that they understand, or at other times seem to understand or even don't respond in a way that indicates comprehension- it really does not matter. I adore every dog that has been my pleasure to share living with. I remember reading about Albert Schweitzer as a child and that he never so much as stepped on an ant and that message slowly began to dawn on me in new ways as I matured and became clearer about myself from a conscientious, spiritual, sensitive and altrusitic side of things. How could I knowingly not render assistence, water, food, love to other animals as well?