Zebra!

The blurry photo of a zebra swallowtail is not excellent, but I was happy to get it at all.
There were far more butterflies and songbirds when I was a child. Back then my brother was mad about insects and had a fantastic butterfly and moth collection. For my part, I kept birdwatcher's notes.
The two of us remain passionate about nature, and we've taken to contacting each other by cell phone or email to note phenomenon such as the first night of hearing spring peepers, or the spotting of an unusual bird. In one of these exchanges my brother mentioned to me that he hadn't seen a zebra swallowtail, quite common when we were children 40 years go, in ages. Neither have I. We've been both on the lookout ever since.
Last summer I finally spotted one, and I didn't have to go farther afield than my backyard flower garden to do so. I had been sitting on the patio, basking in the morning sun, when out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of something fluttering up around the eaves of the house. Although the sun was nearly blinding to me at that angle, I thought it looked black and white--it had to be a zebra. It fluttered up and over the house, but I figured with all the luscious flowers in the garden, the swallowtail would be back. I got my camera ready and waited. After lunch I was rewarded for my effort: the zebra swallowtail returned. As it floated from blossom to blossom I followed, camera in hand. It let me draw near, but it kept "shivering" its wings. There was no hope of a sharp image, but at least I did get several that were clear enough for positive identification--and for sharing. I was delighted to send them to my brother with the one word message: ZEBRA!
That was a day that filled me with happiness and hope. My little garden--a crazy mix of nectar-rich flowers and fruit bearing shrubs--is an oasis in the middle of acres and acres of soybeans and corn. Eventually, I'd like to fill the entire yard with fruits and flowers. It pleases me to think of how many more butterflies and birds will come to rest and dine here. It's a little thing, really, but there is such satisfaction in knowing that my garden is helping to sustain the natural world that I love. Zebra Swallowtail photo by JulenaJo.

November View

This is the view if one looks south out over the back yard now that Farmer John has cut the corn behind our house. Actually, the trees have shed most of their leaves, so the scene is even more stark than when the picture was taken last week. But if one watches carefully throughout the winter there will be much to see. White-tailed deer will wander out of the woodlot to glean the cornfields. Red fox search for field mice. Occasionally, a northern harrier will tilt and careen low over the harvested fields. At night an owl may call from back in the woods. And, of course, there will be the hair-raising quarrels of coyotes and the excited chittering of raccoons. Oh, and the excited bay of hounds in pursuit of the latter on the nights when hunters turn out looking for them. All in all, there is very much to see and hear. One only has to remain vigilant. Photo by JulenaJo.

Creepy Coyote

Every evening just before bed I take our two dogs out for a final potty break. A little over a week ago I did so and heard a coyote barking in the cornfield between our house and our neighbor's house. It could not have been very far away--maybe 1/8 mile--maybe less. My dogs barked and were at alert, but were not frenzied. My heart pounded in fear, though. I quickly called Roxy, our small, black, yorkie-lhasa apso mix, to my side. She came all too slowly to suit me.
I haven't heard the coyote since, but I have noticed that our other dog, Boo (part white German shepherd), has been restless at night, barking at nothing (that I can see or hear), going from window to window, nosing the night air for all it whispers to her.
Last night I saw the coyote, though, and it was too close for comfort. I drove home after picking my daughter up from a soccer match and there he was, standing just at the end of our driveway, half-hidden by some tall grass. His gaze was intent upon our open garage door. Was he after our cat, who had probably just returned home after an evening of hunting mice in the recently harvested fields? Or had someone let Roxy out? I prayed not.
I backed the car and fixed the headlights on the clump of tall grass. The coyote had flattened himself into the clump, but my daughter called out, "I see his ears!" Suddenly, he made a break for it, loping down the road. I pursued, hoping to scare him off, and he ran, but not very far, before leaping off road and into a field of unharvested corn--the same field where I'd heard him barking before. His nonchalant pace left me no doubt that he wasn't serious about leaving the area any time soon.
Later that evening, when I took the dogs out, I kept Roxy on her leash. She played and dallied and I wanted her to hurry. It gives me the creeps being outside at night when I know there is probably a coyote hidden in the corn and staring at me, trying to decide if he should take my little Roxy for a midnight snack. Coyote photo by Christopher Bruno.