Animal Antics

I forgot to mention that I got attacked by a crow on the way to the library yesterday! A young teen, probably pissed off with the world in general, or maybe something had gotten him in a particular snit, deciding to take it out on an innocent passerby! Mostly, it was a verbally abusive assault and I didn't pay much attention. However, by the third time he had swooped over my head almost low enough to knock my hat off, I was definitely taking notice. I wasn't as freaked out as I might have expected to be - more intrigued, really, but as this continued I was in danger of taking it personally and was definitely glad when I made it to the library.

Phil incurred something similar a week ago when he noticed a crows' nest in town and couldn't refrain from climbing up the tree to investigate and see if he could steal an egg. A wonderful little boy at heart, my almost-62-year-old husband! He got buzzed plenty, but you might agree that he had provoked them sorely. When I told him of my attack, he said they must have recognized me as part of his clan! But then agreed that it was probably just a disaffected adolescent getting a kick out of being mean. Corvids - they're so like humans in so many ways...

[Edit: I left the library after posting that, walked down to the post office, and sure enough, had the same crow attack scenario all over again! Was glad that Phil picked me up at the post office so I didn't have to walk back to the library for more! And then this afternoon, I was sitting in the library and heard a big crow harangue. Phil came in - he'd gone to the post office before coming to the library - and guess what? His turn for crow attack...]

A few days ago, I was getting lunch ready and Phil was looking out at the sea otters and their babies gambolling in the waves close to shore (yes, what a wonderful view we have). I was keeping half an eye on the same, and in the moment that I saw a black triangle break through the surf surface, Phil said, 'It's a killer whale!' 'No way,' I said, incredulous. But it was. In fact there were three of them (a 'tri-pod,' I quipped). I couldn't believe my eyes because they were so close into shore and it was a very big low tide right at that time. All the sea otters scarpered. Fast. The orcas were around in water so shallow that they never quite disappeared for another half hour or so, and it looked like they were having a feast: perhaps not all the otters got away.
Next time we saw the sea otters, they were bunched up together as tight as could possibly be - safety in numbers.

Words can't really describe the excitement of getting to observe a scene like that. It was just so sudden and extraordinary, to see such powerful and massive creatures so close to shore. Of course, we're perched on the top of the bluff 250ft higher up, so it's not like we got real close - in fact, the binoculars were helpful. But whereas Phil is constantly looking out far off, scanning, surveying, I have more of a closer focus and inward tendency, and this sort of event reminds me to look out far: there's no telling what amazing event might be going on down there. And then, of course, it wasn't an amazing event to the participants: they were just getting on with their lives. But not many humans get to be witness to that kind of life: it's a broadening thing just to be a witness to it.