The best fed raven on Gabriola

We’ve been outsmarted again! This time by a raven. We may think he’s become our “pet” over the last few years but, in fact, he’s made a pet of us. He’s trained us well. Whenever he peers at us through the window from his perch on the deck railing or swoops past my husband’s basement office to get his attention, one of us will dash to the fridge where we keep a large glass dish full of meat, poultry and fish scraps labelled “Raven,” open the patio door to tell him we’re on our way and then carry his meal to his feeding stumps at the back end of the property, under his watchful beady black eye. As soon as we are a safe distance away, he swoops in for his meal. He is big and sleek, and so well fed that he sometimes seems almost too heavy to fly.

Lately, my husband has become too lazy to walk all the way to the stumps and will put the raven’s dish on the deck where we have a “birds’ eye” view of how neatly he eats and how carefully he stacks pieces of food before flying off to his nest. (In past years, when we’d put out saltine crackers, we would marvel at how he skillfully he would stack them in fours, carefully aligning the corners before flying off with them in his beak.) He will return multiple times to clear out the dish, either to feed himself on the spot, carry bits back to the nest or cache pieces in the leaf litter on our neighbour’s roof, in our woodchip pile or even in the ground.

Longing for spring and our beach "crabicures"

It's still winter so the tiny crabs have disappeared from the tide pools. When they return with the warmer weather, we will hold our feet and fingers still so that these diligent, miniature manicurists can remove the dead skin on our toes and from around our fingernails. These "crabicures" are virtually painless and fun to watch. Often, a crab will become territorial and attack any other crabs trying to join the party.

Raccoons on the rampage

An accidentally loosened bucket lid, a few towels put out for them for bedding  — and away they go! 

Amusing raccoons

Better than TV, better than YouTube...our raccoon families are a source of endless entertainment. Although we put toys out for them,  they also bring their own, such as peacock feathers (shed from the small flock of peacocks who unfortunately have adopted our property as their home) and pieces of bark. They like to keep their hands busy—my daughter says they have OCD!—by rubbing the stones they place in their water tray and swimming pool and by constantly moving the rocks in our rock garden. Lately, one of our juniors (born earlier this year) has taken a shine to the buckets next to the doors of the deck where we feed them. It has become his/her favourite spot for grooming and napping, probably because it is warmer than the chilly tiled deck— and as close as possible to us, the feeders.

Rats redux: round two

Yesterday morning, my daughter sounded the alarm. "There's water dripping from the basement ceiling!" We quickly sprung into action, rolling up carpets, moving furniture and books, laying down towels and positioning buckets. We'd been there before, just six weeks earlier, so we knew exactly what to do and what had happened: rats had chewed through a water pipe—again! 

The first time, identifying the leak required taking down a good part of the basement ceiling, which was only just recently fully repaired, at considerable expense. Now, we have a new hole and water damage to the newly installed ceiling. And a huge mess to clean up—again!. 

Fortunately, this second leak wasn't as calamitous as the first because the plumber had installed shut-off valves on every water line when he fixed the first leak. At the time, my husband complained that this was excessive, but instead of having to turn off the water to the entire house as we did the first time, we were able to isolate the leaking pipe right away and keep the water on everywhere else.

We knew we had rats, of course. Before our (late) cat went blind, he used to sit on the deck and watch , fascinated, as the rats boldly helped themselves to the cat kibble from the bowls we put out for the raccoons. Since our cat was too old, or perhaps too smart, to go after the rats, they blithely ignored him even though he was mere inches away. 

Protesting raccoons

AI-generated, created by C. Aras 

We have been feeding raccoons for more than a decade—and, unfortunately, they won't let us stop. It's become a huge chore and ruinously expensive, but we're stuck because they simply will not leave. What began with a single blind female soon expanded into several dozen every year, usually four mothers with multiple offspring. And a few extra beggars who show up later in the season, probably kits we've fed in the past. 

We vow every year to cut them off when they depart in the winter but, inevitably, one or two never abandon us. That's because, in our temperate climate, they don't hibernate: they only have what's called a "winter sleep." So, we end up feeding these hangers-on all winter, too, and by spring, they are joined by a fresh contingent of starving, exhausted nursing mothers begging at our patio door for kibble and fresh water. We always cave in! And so the cycle continues.

Since we live on an island, keeping up with the requisite number of bags of their preferred food, Whiskas® Meaty Selections™  for cats, is difficult, especially in the fall when the babies have grown and their appetites have become voracious as they fatten up for winter. This morning, I realized that we were running out of Whiskas. In a panic, I dashed to our soon-to-be-closed-forever hardware store to buy a few bags of whatever was available—what turned out to be a much more expensive, higher-protein brand—to tide us over until our next delivery of Whiskas.

Instead of gratitude, we encountered only sullen looks. The raccoons pointedly ignored the full bowls behind them and stood on their hind legs, glaring at us through our glass doors, demanding their favourite fare! How do we know what they want? Raccoons are excellent communicators and always manage to get us to do their bidding. But not this time. Despite the obvious protest, we are ignoring them and hope that that by the end of the night, their bowls will be empty. 

Otter surprise

In our 20 years on Gabriola, this is the first time I've ever seen an otter in our yard. We are quite a ways from the ocean. The video was taken from our kitchen window. This fellow seems to know exactly where he's going!