A few weeks ago while enjoying the avian entertainment outside, I noticed what I thought to be a new (to me) species of bird amongst the dozens of individuals enjoying the free meal.  There was throughout the morning what I’ve come to see as the normal array of visitors: northern cardinals (Cardinalis cardinalis), blue jays (Cyanocitta cristata), mourning doves (Zenaida macroura), house sparrows (Passer domesticus), rock doves (Columba livia), a northern mockingbird or two (Mimus polyglottos), not to mention several winged strangers I’ve seen on occasion that have thus far evaded identification.  The new creature I was watching was as small as a house sparrow with similar markings as a male of that species, but only on his body; his wings were brilliant white, yet not entirely white.  The more I looked at the creature as it flitted about eating, the more I realized the white on its wings only covered everything from the carpal joint (wrist) to the tip of the wing.  The rest of the appendage was colored exactly like a male house sparrow.  Then it struck me: he has partial albinism.  The albino pigmentation loss only presented in the outermost segment of the wings (everything from the last joint to the outside edge).  This caused a most remarkable color variation with the standard darkness of a male sparrow contrasted with the utterly beguiling stark white of his albino feathers.  I’ve been trying to catch a photo of him as he’s beautiful and very unique.

Speaking of photographing my avian mooches, it’s been rather difficult to do given their protective cover right outside the patio.  If I walk out the door, most of them flee and scatter.  A few exceptions exist, like the mourning doves who generally will walk under the bushes to a safe distance where they can watch me, but even then they cannot be photographed easily.  It’s not possible to get pictures from inside since there are at least two panes of glass and/or screens between us, not to mention the patio fence (the biggest obstacle).  But I’m still trying.

I left quite early the other day to go to Starbucks for my morning fix.  It was still dark outside.  As I turned toward civilization from my protected home hidden at the lake, I noticed on the far side of the road what appeared to be a dead animal.  As I approached it and my headlights illuminated the body, I realized it was a rather large nine-banded armadillo (Dasypus novemcinctus).  It upset me profusely to see it lying there on the side of the road where it appeared to have died immediately from a significant vehicle impact.  Let me clarify something: that road is three lanes wide (slightly more than one-and-a-half lanes in each direction).  The carcass was against the tree line of the lake.  That meant it was as far to the right as it could be while still being on the road.  From the looks of the beast it didn’t go anywhere after it was hit, so that makes me suspect it dropped where it was at the time of the impact.  That being the case, someone had significant room to veer around it.  It was too large to miss even at night.  Traveling 10 mph over the speed limit on that road would still have allowed someone to avoid it as they approached.  I can’t be certain since I didn’t witness it, but I strongly suspect it was hit on purpose, someone was driving way too fast to miss it, or the brute responsible was paying zero attention.  Given its location, the general traffic would have missed it anyway (I’ve yet to see anyone drive that far to the right on that particular stretch of pavement).

There has been a plethora of baby opossums (Virginia opossums; Didelphis virginiana) around here lately.  I’m working on another post about some of them, as it’s a funny story.  In the meantime, let me say I’ve seen up to three of them at a time.  They’re still small enough to walk right through the fence yet are out and about on their own.  Watching them grow has been entertaining since I remember when they were so small they could stand in the palm of my hand (like this one).  To back up even further, I strongly suspect these are the offspring from Momma Possum who so graciously visited one evening so that I might see her carrying around the little ones in her pouch.  That was the only time I saw her with the babies.  It wasn’t too long after that when I began seeing the juveniles doing their own thing without her.  Of course, there are several opossums I’ve seen who could just as easily be the mother (or father), but I like assuming they’re all the offspring I once witnessed dangling out of Momma’s pouch and making her life a bit more hectic.

In addition, there is a significant number of young raccoons (Procyon lotor) now spending the evening roaming in search of food and entertainment (or, from the human perspective, trouble).  The disparate nurseries of raccoon cubs are amazing.  Some are quite young (too young, in my opinion, to be without their mother, in which case I suspect she was killed while they were quite young).  Some are a bit older.  Some of the very young nurseries have joined forces (meaning multiple parents are probably dead).  One particular group is so small that they too can walk right through the fence with no problems (a fact that came as quite a surprise when they did so while I was standing there assuming my own safety because, as I thought, they’d have to climb the fence to pose a problem; that’ll teach me to assume).

Based on all the baby activity, this seems to have been a good year for the wildlife in the area.  Birds are masters of the sky in vast numbers, raccoons and opossums both young and old control the ground at night (at least to a certain extent, and certainly enough for a warning to be put out recently explaining how dangerous raccoons can be and not to confront them intentionally), and the lake is alive and overflowing with nature’s bounty.  It’s a hell of a thing, I’ll tell you, and I can’t express enough how much I love living here.