WOODY WOODPECKER STRIKES AGAIN
I just walked outside to try to scare off the woodpecker. We have a home by Long Island Sound that perches on a short cliff over the beach, so it’s a bit like hanging out in a giant aviary. The birds’ presence became particularly evident during COVID when the world shut down and we could hear their voices so clearly, often around 5 AM. (Thanks, guys.)
A red-headed woodpecker (one? many? how can I tell?) has chosen our condo block as his personal feed trough. Our late neighbor would complain to the condo manager about how he (she?) would awaken us at 5 AM by pounding on the metal parts of the siding or gutters. Our neighbor wanted the woodpeckers “taken care of,” but not poisoned because they are a near-threatened species. Not enough deadwood for habitat, apparently, thus the attack on the “deadwood” of our building. What could my neighbor’s plan have been, we wondered, if he even had one? Offer a relocation package? The manager ignored the notes, and we stayed out of it, covering our heads with a pillow when the woodpecker got particularly wound up in the spring to show off his prowess as a mate.
Last week, we discovered this under our outside front door light:
Something yummy must have lived there.
This is akin to the battle the condo is having with the geese. Not much of a battle, frankly: the geese are winning. The geese have claimed the large mown field near the beach. They feed there daily, leaving poop and feathers everywhere. Some community members are incensed by this, as if the geese have no right to sully their pristine grass. One of our neighbor’s children put it best: “The geese need somewhere, too.” How much space do humans need? Can we learn to share? What will sharing cost us? That seems to be the entire question of climate change.
Here's another piece of “getting along” with nature I’ve been thinking about: my air conditioning. Making my home cool means I’m pushing the heat in my home outside to make the world hotter (look up “heat exchanger in AC” for more info). I can refill the birdbath every day but if the birds can’t cool themselves sufficiently, they’ll die. What are we willing to give up to be good planetary citizens? I’m not suggesting you turn off your A/C—I know I’m not turning off mine. I am, however, keeping my house a couple degrees warmer than in the past, on the theory that everything counts, and I really don’t want to have to live underground in the future.
As you probably guessed, our personal woodpecker is undeterred. This morning, he started in again about 8:30. (Late! Woo hoo!) My usual sharp smack on the wall didn’t scare him off, so I went outside to have a chat. When I finally saw him perched up by the highest of our windows, I realized he’d gone completely still: Don’t mind me, I’m just part of the building. He turned his head to follow my voice as I chided him for the three huge holes he’d drilled. As I swept the front steps hoping he’d get the hint, he froze. Not a peck. But he didn’t leave his position and the succulent meal apparently available there. (What this says about the state of our exterior walls is something I don’t want to think about.) When I finally gave up and returned inside, the savvy little twerp resumed his banging undeterred. You go, baby. Happy habitat.
I rank mosquitos as my number one misery. Is there a part of the natural world that you find challenging? I always love to hear from you. Enjoy the summer.
Addendum: I have been fighting to keep the rabbits out of my garden.
Here’s a pic of one of them:
Coy, right? About a week or so ago, he (she?) dug a hole under the gate and starting nipping off the leaves on my bean plants and eating my chicory. I resent this. I am unwilling to share this part of my world with someone who didn’t put in any of the work. I put a rock and some additional netting over his hole. He found a way in through another part of the fence. I repaired the fence. This morning, this:
You and me, buddy. We are not done.
You can find me on Instagram and Facebook, and my mystery novels and poetry on my website.