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There is beauty and cruelty in nature, even in your own backyard

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I wish to put that proper at the start. I do know some individuals are delicate about such issues and may favor to cease studying now. It bummed me out, too. Nature is nothing if not merciless.

But simply as usually, nature is stunning.

And so it has been round my home recently, this mixture of beauty and cruelty that constitutes the very essence of being alive.

This is the primary spring of our new and improved yard: a burbling (synthetic) stream and native crops designed to lure pollinators. For the primary time ever, we have been visited by warblers on their annual migration.

For us, this was like seeing a unicorn, or a flock of unicorns. Warblers are the diminutive dandies of the birding world. My Lovely spouse and I are so accustomed to robins, cardinals and sparrows, that we infrequently have to seek the advice of the chook identification guide we carry on our porch. These fetching little birds had us thumbing its pages.

I believe what we had have been a black-and-white warbler, a black-throated inexperienced warbler, a yellow-rumped warbler and an American redstart. They solely caught round for an hour or two, not lengthy sufficient for me to ask them. A yellow-throated vireo and a cedar waxwing splashed in our stream, too.

They have been all simply passing by way of, however we take pleasure in our resident birds, too. For the previous couple of years we’ve been placing out two birdhouses. One is plain, simply tough wooden in the traditional basement workbench configuration. The different one is fancier, with ornamental millwork and a steeply pitched roof, its ridge flashed in copper. I name it the Chalet.

Until this spring, no chook had deigned to nest in the Chalet. But this 12 months, a chickadee couple moved in. We’ve seen a wren commuting again and forth to the opposite home, so we’re hoping there’s additionally a nest in there.

As for merciless, one afternoon a crow buzzed by way of our backyard, one thing large and squirming in its beak. It was a fledgling, a blue jay we predict. When the crow settled on a neighbor’s roof, an grownup blue jay sat a couple of yards away squawking miserably.

Crows and crow infants should eat, too, I assume.

And then there was the squirrel. One morning final week, as my spouse absent-mindedly gazed out the entrance door, a cup of espresso in her hand, a small department fluttered to the road from atop a tree. The leafy bough was adopted a millisecond later by a squirrel. It hit the pavement with a sickening thud.

“Oh!” Ruth cried, as if it was she who had fallen.

The squirrel lay immobile on its facet on the asphalt, only a few ft from a garden which may have cushioned its fall.

We don’t count on squirrels to plummet from timber. They appear so sure-footed. I’ve written about their outstanding agility, the way in which they scurry by way of the cover, their death-defying leaps. They appear to all the time stick the touchdown. Here was the exception that proved the rule.

I went out to analyze. A teardrop of blood had pooled in the nook of the squirrel’s eye — a crimson comma stark in opposition to its grey fur — but it surely was nonetheless respiratory.

What could be essentially the most humane course?

We don’t lack for squirrels in our neighborhood. They are in all places. They delight us with their antics and infuriate us with their persistence. Squirrels haven’t any boundaries and no impulse management. Perhaps this is why some individuals love them and some individuals hate them.

This squirrel was not particularly outstanding. But it was a dwelling factor in misery.

I referred to as a wildlife rehabilitator I do know. She recommended we take it to Second Chance Wildlife Center in Gaithersburg. She was stark in her evaluation. The squirrel may die in transit, she stated. It could be too severely injured to be saved.

My spouse placed on leather-based gloves and bought a cardboard field. She slipped an edge below the squirrel and slid the squirrel in. She added a towel. She punched some holes in the highest of the field then sealed it with duct tape.

If the squirrel did get up, it wasn’t going to be in the perfect temper. It may attempt to escape. As we drove up I-270 we had visions of the squirrel bursting from the field and madly pinballing across the inside our automotive like a drunk monkey.

We consigned the squirrel to the oldsters at Second Chance. “Squirrels do fall from trees,” stated the girl who took the field from us.

Later that day we obtained an e mail. In addition to its accidents, the squirrel was contaminated with a virus that had in all probability contributed to its poor stability and its fall. It — she, the e-mail stated — needed to be euthanized.

Red in tooth and claw nature could also be, but it surely nonetheless lifts my coronary heart to be a part of it.

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