Our resident bird of prey seems to have become, well, a resident. Apparently, he likes the trees, the view, the roomy birdbath, and the wildlife population. And he’s sticking around, despite our desire otherwise.

The ongoing presence of a natural predator in the yard has caused a marked decrease in squirrel-viewing opportunities. They just don’t congregate on the deck like they used to. We only see them one or two at a time, and they don’t hang around for long. Clearly, self-preservation ranks higher for them than the all-you-can-eat buffet of corn and birdseed.

Maybe the reduction in squirrel sightings will make the hawk move on in time. I hope so. It’s a fabulous bird, but for overall entertainment value, it’s just not the same as our squirrels.

I’ve heard from various sources that you don’t feed raccoons. (The reasons for the advice mostly seem to revolve around the fact that raccoons can carry diseases like rabies.) We never planned on feeding them, but it happened anyway, as a side effect of feeding the squirrels; raccoons eat corn too, and they started prowling the deck at night looking for leftovers. So, although we felt sorry for them — just think how many corn kernels your average raccoon has to scrounge to get a decent meal! — we resolved to limit how much we put out each day: just enough for the squirrels and no more.

That was before we saw the baby.

One afternoon, we looked out the window and there was a mother raccoon with a cuddly little fuzzball in tow (literally, at times). It seemed fascinated by the plant life and curious about the yard in general, so that may have been its first time out of the nest. Mother Raccoon seemed nervous, both about its slow pace and about our observation from the window. When the maternal instinct got too strong, she’d haul Baby up by the scruff of the neck and physically move it where she wanted it to be. After a few minutes, she decided it was time to retreat to safety and took Baby back to the bottom of the tree where they nest. She let it crawl up about a foot on its own before she seized it and carried it into the treetops.

Needless to say, we were instantly in love with this tiny, fuzzy creature, and the no-food-for-raccoons rule fell by the wayside. We had a mother and baby to feed.

Several weeks passed without any baby sightings, and we became less vigilant about leaving out extra corn, stale bread, and other scraps. Then one afternoon, we found the deck occupied by Mama Coon and two plump, waddling furballs.

They snuffled around, inspecting everything while Mama ate. And I got pictures this time. She didn’t seem to know what to make of the camera (I think the flash made her nervous), but I got quite a few good shots before she led her brood away.

After that, we renewed our efforts to make sure that Mama and babies were adequately fed. Unfortunately, it’s hard to feed specific raccoons without attracting others, so we eventually had to give up the proactive approach and only toss out bread when we see them. They may run when we open the door, but they always come back.

Mornings really ought to start later in the day. Am icky-tired this morning, thanks to another restless night of half-sleep and odd dreams. The thought that actually got me out of bed was that I had a yard full of hungry squirrels waiting on me. My business clients I’d let wait, but not the squirrels; sad but true. There’s just something about knowing a little creature (or a whole pack of them, in this case) is hungry and waiting on you. By the time I got to the feed bag, I heard a great thump and discovered an unhappy squirrel jumping against the patio door. Clearly he thought I’d forgotten them. They scattered when I opened the door, except for one brave squirrel who continued sitting on the porch, as if checking to be sure I had the food with me. I worry what will happen when we move… I have visions of the next resident being mauled to death by a dozen hungry squirrels. But feeding “my” animals is one of my great joys here in post-Katrina New Orleans, so I’m not going to stop.