“When there is a conflict between food (eggs and garden) and wildlife (raccoons, hawks, squirrels), is it a given that the human activities claim priority? And if not, then how are such questions to be navigated?”
from The Urban Bestiary, by Lyanda Lynn Haupt
This morning, after three thunks on the roof, I jumped up and tore outside clapping and yelling and hurling projectiles at the squirrels. There were two in the apple tree, sampling. This has been going on for weeks. The apples are still green, idiots!
This afternoon when I came through the gate the newly angled light picked out an apple in particular, unnibbled, plump, slightly golden, perhaps ripe. I would have that apple. It wasn’t easy to get to but I managed without breaking anything, arboreal or corporeal. I rubbed it on my shirt which probably dirtied it somewhat. It was a perfect apple, without one larval blemish. I ate it at my desk and threw the core out the front door to join the galaxies of other nibbled apples, all rage assuaged.
Today’s offering goes to Tefnut, the Egyptian goddess of rain.
Don’t threaten me with love, baby. Let’s just go walking in the rain.