Tim vs. the Wildlife

Day number 71 of my expedition begins the typical way. At 5:35 a.m., the sun creeps over the horizon and most bird species begin their melodic tweeting. One species takes a different route. BamBamBamBamBamBamBam!

The Northern Flicker, or colaptes auratus, is a medium-sized woodpecker that marks its territory by repeated hammering or "drumming". Though the natural drumming material is wood, urbanized Flickers have taken a fancy to metal, such as the metal fireplace cover on my grandmothers house. After reverberating down the chimney, its tiny beak sounds more like a SIG SG-550.

Speaking of rifles, the Northern Flicker is protected by the Federal Migratory Bird Treaty Act, which requires a federal permit for lethal methods of control. Instead, I brought my Super Soaker XP 150 back from Iowa. If I'm having a particularly rough morning, I throw a handful of ice cubes for good measure.


Our other brushes with the local fauna have been less irritating, other than the finches that ate Kimbra's strawberries. Deer have been quite popular. They seem to care very little about whose bushes they devour and even less about giving cars the right-of-way. This morning, we saw a baby bound across the lawn while its mother munched on a nearby tree.

Our last spotting has been the neighborhood fox, who prefers to avoid media attention. He enjoys riling up the local dogs and uses the drainage ditches as his own personal roadways. Clara refers to him as 'neaky fox, thanks to Dora the Explorer.