Donovan Kelly
Crummy But Good Writer with a Lighter Touch
Something there is that drives the aging male to patrol his domain at 2:30 in the morning. What that is we need not discuss here. Enough to say that men of a certain maturity often are up and about at 2:30 a.m.
Call me nosey, but part of my 2:30 ritual is to turn on the hand spotlight and check out the woods that surround our cabin. Often there are deer at the salt lick. Less frequently, I spot a fox, possum or raccoon sneaking corn from the feeder.
Most annoying is the sight of a flying squirrel gliding towards the cabin, coming in for the big attic squirrel dance that will probably awaken me again at 4:00 a.m. Worse, the happy scampering feet will awaken my good wife, who prefers not to share our cabin with non-humans. She will give me that look, that Me Or Them Look, which means tomorrow I had better find a way to make our cabin less attractive to rodents.
On June 1, my 2:30 patrol surprised a young black bear a mere 15 feet away, gazing longingly up at the suet feeder. Just as the redbuds announce spring in West Virginia, the migration of the young male bears announces summer. All across the state, Mama bears are telling their 2-year-old male cubs that it is time to leave home and find some territory of their own. We love you, June graduates, but go away. It’s time to move on and try and make it on your own.
Two years ago, I think I met this bear’s Mama in the dark on the cabin deck. I agreed she could have the deck and retreated inside. She promptly took down the rope that held my birdfeeders 10 feet off the ground. Ignoring the sunflower seed feeder and the sugar water in the hummingbird feeder, she ran off with a thumb-size piece of suet that the woodpeckers had left behind.
Her youngster, the 2:30 bear, hasn’t yet mastered the theory of decks and ropes that can lead to suet. Instead, he sniffed sadly at the suet just beyond his reach, turned and ambled off in the glare of my spotlight.
I awoke my good wife who deserves better and asked her excitedly if she wanted to see the new bear. She gave me that look.
Tomorrow I will take down the suet feeder until winter returns. Why? Because even when I’m stumbling around at 2:30 in the morning, grouchy, bleary-eyed and thick-headed, I still know this: for every West Virginia cabin, there is a new season of wildlife, but a man is lucky to get one good wife. Happy Anniversary, Good Wife.