The Moustachioed Wildlife of May!

The Moustachioed Wildlife of May!

Straw Man Mustache

Move over, Movember. You’ve got nothing on May’s wild mustaches sported by squirrels, phoebes, robins and tree swallows!

But if Movember is when men grow and women support a Mo (moustache) to become walking, talking billboards for prostate and testicular cancer initiatives, what’s the wildlife rallying for? Do we call this Moy or is next month Mune?

We’ve named the magnificent moustachios seen on Curtis Hill. Share your own ideas below!

1.) Social Climber

Social Climber Moustache

2.) “Can’t Touch This” Stache

Cant Touch This Stache

3.) The Streamer

The Streamer Moustache

4.) The Last Straw

The Last Strand Stache

5.) The Papa

The Papa Stache

6.) The Standup Stache

The Standup Stache

7.) The Grasshopper

The Grasshopper Moustache

8.) The Getaway

The Getaway Stache


Wild Baby Animals: The Next Generation

Wild Baby Animals: The Next Generation

Wild baby animals have sprung with coming of Spring but, with all the rain, who’s been outside long enough to notice? This weekend, nice weather changed all that. Aside from pulling up 500 pounds of weeds, we found plenty of little critters growing just like them all around the property.


Wild Baby Animals: RobinLook who’s taken up residence in our Rhododendron! Four baby robins hatched so recently, only one is old enough to open his little eyes. They’re growing so fast, just ” being” exhausts them. What’s the one thing they do muster some energy for? Each time the wind blows, these little babies enthusiastically snap their big, hungry mouths open thinking their mother has landed on a nearby branch with a fat, juicy worm.


Wild Baby Animals:  PhoebesOur family of frequenting phoebes has called our house on Curtis Hill home for four years in a row, raising two broods each time.

This year’s first brood is the largest to date, with four healthy, happy babies just itching to fly. With plenty of fuel imported by mom and dad, these kids spend afternoons polishing and preening their tiny pin feathers, firing up their little jet engines and, flapping their wings in a test run while hanging on for dear life.

Tree Swallows

Wild Baby Animals:  SwallowDon’t tell these tree swallows they aren’t in the right house. They’ve forfeited any and all trees (as well as their first condo in the side yard) for this bluebird house in the dog yard. Yes, swallows live in close proximity to humans on purpose to keep predators away. Who knew dogs were equally beneficial?

And is that a dragonfly in your mouth or are you just happy to see me? This photo and the footage below are from last year, but the parents are back this season and sitting on a new nest.

Red Squirrels

Wild Baby Animals: Red SquirrelLast year, at this time, red squirrels were nesting in our chimney. Four sweet babies grew from tiny squeaks in the wall into full-on screaming mimis when they saw us through a crack in the mortar. Hearing them shuffling up to the roofline, I watched them test their boundaries as they attempted to descend the logs and bricks.

Watch the video below for unseen footage of Momma taking these curious babies into the forest by mouth as they wrap themselves around her neck for ease in transport.

House Cats Love Wild Baby Animals 

Wildlife preservation starts with us. Cats will be cats. To prevent senseless killings having nothing to do with sustenance, I now keep my killer cats in the house, always. Might you consider doing the same?

Gremlins in our Midst

Gremlins in our Midst

1975 Kim HauntedAs a young child, I often feared creatures lurking in dark shadows. My bedroom closet ran under the eaves of the roof and into the depths of the attic. Here lived a number of gruesome, horrific beasties – monsters that scared the bejeezus out of me.

My father claimed they were squirrels.

Only the light kept the monsters at bay. After dark, I’d hit the switch, get a running start and leap to the safety of my lace canopy bed. I had to keep my feet away from the edge. This kept the gremlins from dragging me to the underworld by my ankles. Obviously. Each morning proved it so.

Sometimes the wind howled off the murky waters of Lake Erie. The skeleton white branches of the birch would scrape and claw at my window. Or was it the birch? I’d lay in my bed, covers overhead, eyes squinched shut against the darkness as I wished away the demons.

Today I turn 40.  Not much has changed. But with age comes wisdom and I know this to be true. My father was wrong.

The gremlins aren’t squirrels and they are very, very real.