So much excitement here this morning!
I’m out on the porch just enjoying the cool, overcast morning. It’s been far too long since we’ve had a morning like this and it’s beyond glorious.
Suddenly, I’m staring down into the eyes of a beautiful coyote. He/she is not afraid of me in the least. I ‘ssssttttt’ and shoo the coyote and off it jogs. About three seconds later, there’s another one! Again, I make noise (while simultaneously admiring the animals) and this second coyote walks away quite casually.
Thirty seconds later, two of our neighbors walk up and I give them the coyote warning. They tell me there are actually three coyotes out and about and they’ve been keeping an eye on them.
Following not too far behind the couple is another resident who asks which way the animals have gone. As she’s asking, one coyote makes another appearance. This lady starts yelling her loudest and chasing it away. She yells to various neighbors to keep their dogs inside, all while flailing her arms about and yelling at the coyotes.
As soon as everyone disappears around various corners, one coyote walks into the middle of the street, looks at me as if to ask, “what the hell?” And then quickly disappears between homes.
I think the drama is coming to an end when our friendly little spectacular hummingbird pops up right in front of my face, hovering as it often does. Then it zips away, zips back, hovers, lather, rinse, repeat a dozen times. It’s telling me it does NOT approve of how our ficus was trimmed yesterday (hacked low and tight).
Here’s the thing about the tree: it housed dozens of birds each night. Just as dusk would begin to fall, birds of all kinds would come to the tree and settle in for the night. There was this cacophony of birdly conversation that was, at times, deafening. Hummingbirds, finches, mockingbirds, wrens, etc., would gather and do their thing. And then, quiet. Occasionally, there’d be rustling and chirpy murmurs, but then absolute silence.
But the one hummingbird let us know right away — as soon as the tree trimmer was gone — that it was not pleased. There was no place for it to hide any longer! How dare we!
So this morning, it continues with its complaints. And then another one joins in. Right up in my face.
Between the birds and coyotes, it’s as if nature is sparking its revolution right here and now.
And one of the Golden Girls has gone Croc Hunter on the coyotes.
What a way to start the day! The only bad/regretable thing is that I’m not down there in the fray. (Grumble, grumble, my damn body, grumble, grumble.)