Mouth agape, looking up, I exclaimed to my husband, “Listen to that!”
One day early spring, we were working at buttoning up our sap season then and spending one of the last afternoons in the woods — the sun winking between sparse clouds, promising warmer days ahead. Breezeless, the woods was tranquil yet the birds in the trees were going crazy — singing up a storm like they were holding a concert just for us. We noticed bluebirds, blackbirds, orioles and robins.
Later, reflecting on the wonder of the birds tucked in the woodland, I realized there’s a home for every creature under the sun.
My husband loves to hunt. He has numerous blinds and a few tree stands strategically positioned on our property along with three trail cams. Never once did I complain he spends too much money on hunting — no brag, just fact. Whenever we discuss hunting-related equipment to buy, I invariably agree.
One day, he paused, eyebrows knit together, looked at me quizzically and asked, “Why don’t you ever make a fuss when I wanna buy something?”
Without hesitation, I responded, “You don’t smoke, drink or gamble. You hunt.”
End of discussion.
He’s a very hard worker and has provided well for our family all these years. He continues to make wise business decisions regarding our farm and future, always discussing things together. If he splurges a bit on his hunting hobby, I don’t care one whit.
Our trail cams have provided an inside look at all the forest creatures that call the woods their home — the nighttime, their social life. My hunting husband shares the pics he gets with me and I marvel. It’s diverse and interesting and altogether amazing. Once in a while, we’ve even caught a few different species on one frame.
From late in the night to wee morning, through our motion-triggered trail cameras, we’ve captured coyotes, woodchucks, raccoons, opossum, fox, deer, turkeys, bear, skunks, bobcats, mice, squirrels, rabbits, porcupines, wolves, sand hill cranes, pheasants, male and female — and an occasional feral cat.
The difference between the genders of a pheasant is astounding — the males are beautiful where females are blah. Under birdfact.com, I found: “Female pheasants are duller in color than males. Males have iridescent green necks, bold white neck rings and red faces. Their tails are long and coppery in color with fine black bars. Only male pheasants can be hunted.”
My husband has never hunted pheasant, sticking to deer and turkey. We both think the male pheasants are stunning, and every pheasant season they are able to survive I always cheer, “Yay! He made it!”
During our treks in the woods, I look for fox dens or places where a bear might have been hibernating or a woodchuck may have trod. There are literal paths that deer wore down from the top of the hill to the fields to the fresh-water spring in our swamp that never freezes.
The adjacent fields are planted with either corn, alfalfa or soybeans to supplement deer diet and in the woods wild berries grow for bear to consume. It’s a veritable paradise for the creatures that call our woods their home.
Back on the farm, the cows and heifers have their own place, too. They have shelter, food, fresh water and clean bedding to hunker down during lazy afternoons and night-time rest.
The large, round, corn-stalk and soybean-straw bedding bales are stored in the barn mow, handy for my husband to haul down with the skidder when he needs to re-bed the heifer barn. The cows are bedded down with sand which makes it soft to lay on, yet easy to hoist themselves up on.
Perfect accommodations — they’re all treated like queens over here.
My three barn kitties have their own shelter up in the mow and I’ve introduced them before — Little Yellow, Graycie and Fred. We’ve been perplexed, though. We have a nighttime trespasser, a huge, well-fed raccoon, who’ve we caught on a trail cam set up in the mow. (On my persistence … “Can I borrow one? For a little while?”)
The unwelcome visitor literally steals the mini marshmallows I’ve been trying to lure him in with — and leaves the live trap intact. It’s maddening. He helps himself to late-night suppers, complete with drink and dessert. In the morning, the bowls for my kitties are empty. Three cats do not eat and drink full bowls in one day. Scram, coon. You belong in the woods.
We also house pigs here for about six months. They have a roofed partition, dirt floor with room to root and ready access to food and water up front on a cement base for ease of cleaning. Growing swiftly they are not fussy, consuming whatever we offer them, in addition to their grain mix and ready tub of fresh water.
Every creature has their own home and we are privileged to either enjoy from afar or tend where needed.
(“You turn off the light and it becomes night and all the beasts of the forest come out to prowl.” Psalm 103:20, The Passion Translation)
Kay Reminger was born and raised on a dairy farm, and she married her high school sweetheart, who happened to farm for a living in Leopolis. Writing for quite a few years, she remains focused on the blessings of living the ups and downs of rural life from a farm wife’s perspective.
There’s a home for every creature under the sun
