The Urban Bestiary
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* This is because the coyote has an efficient carnivore’s digestive tract and, even in cities, a natural diet that leaves little waste. The scats are simply clean indigestibles.
* For context and perspective, while only two people are known to have been killed by coyotes in North America ever, there are dozens of people killed by domestic dogs every single year. And while there were two hundred reported injuries to humans from coyotes in the past thirty years, there are four and a half million dog bites every year in the United States, with about eight hundred thousand of them requiring medical attention. Unlike coyote encounters, most of these domestic dog incidents, including the deaths, are not widely reported. Of course, there are more dogs, and so more dog bites; the point here is that while domestic dogs really do pose a daily threat to us, they are not vilified; the coyotes among us pose far less of an immediate threat than dogs, yet there are fierce and emotional calls for their eradication.
* Coyotes are particularly susceptible to sarcoptic mange; this is theoretically passable to domestic pets but so far has not been an issue. Rabies in coyotes is limited to a localized population in south Texas.
* In a modern trickster story, coyotes in Southern California feasted on a colony of feral cats for some time, and after the cats were depleted, the coyotes ate the food local citizens continued to leave for the (now-absent) cats. I am a cat lover, but who could keep from chuckling? This outwitting is so typically Coyote.
* Responding to a shift in the public’s perception of its activities, the government agency responsible for killing coyotes whitewashed its image and changed its name from Animal Damage Control to Wildlife Services.
* I continued to hear the mole under my sleepy ear for the rest of that backyard tenting season. When we eventually folded up the tent in late October, we discovered a complex, perfectly square maze of mole tunnels excavated in the top layer of sod and soil, exactly matching the tent’s footprint—a beautiful mole mandala! We speculate that while the soil in most of the yard had dried up over the summer, the soil beneath the tent remained shaded and moist, and more attractive to our mole.
* In a Caddo tradition, this ability is explained in a myth: A man has passed to the next life, and is instructed by the Wise One to go straight to the new land, without stopping or looking back. When the fragrance of just-ripe persimmons distracts him on the path, he can’t help turning back for one last taste of the sweet fruit. The Wise One forgives this weakness—who could resist ripe persimmon?—but must punish such disobedience. The man will go into the afterlife on four feet, and with a mask. After this, his kindred raccoons walk the earth, plucking the just-right fruit before anyone else can get to it.
* The comments were in response to a post about how local opossums were endangering local chickens (though no chickens had actually been harmed). It is true that an opossum may be attracted to a chicken coop. But an opossum will rarely (I won’t say never, but rarely ) take on a full-size chicken. That’s just too overwhelming for a ’possum. They will be attracted to other things in the coop: smaller young chickens or bantams, eggs, chicken food, and—if you have them (which you do)—rats. In fact, the opossum’s favorite food is small mammals, rats and mice, so in this way, its presence is actually a plus for the urban chicken farmer, for whom rats are a much bigger worry than opossums are. If you practice good husbandry and close the coop up at night to keep your birds safe from raccoons (which really will kill them), then opossums will not trouble your hens.
* Here, David echoes British explorer John Lawson, who observed his first opossums in what is now North Carolina and, in 1701, called them “the Wonder of all the Land-Animals” while also noting that “their flesh is very white, and well tasted, but their ugly Tails put me out of Conceit with that Fare.” Even so, modern Weight Watchers’ charts include the number of points for a serving of opossum. In Seattle, eating opossum would be considered unusual, but as urban sustainability efforts gain ground, so do discussions of eating backyard creatures like opossums and squirrels, which is a move toward ultra-local meat and a version of pest control rolled into one. In the face of such talk, I remain gratefully vegetarian.
* It is not my intention to be an opossum apologist. Like all wild presences, that of the opossum is complicated. With their omnivorous adaptability and the abundance of food available for opossums, they might be a practical menace, but they are not an ecological menace in urban places. However, in rural areas, especially in the West, where they are (possibly) an introduced species, their predation on native birds may be of concern and deserves further study. In New Zealand, where the introduced brushtail opossum has colonized the island’s sensitive forests, fragile populations of native and indigenous birds are threatened by opossum depredation. In their North American history, particularly in the East, where they are native, opossums appear to exist in ecological stasis. That is, they do eat birds, but no more than any other bird-eating wild thing, and not out of proportion to their population and range; their numbers are kept in check by predators and cars. But as native habitat is chopped up into ever-smaller “island” relics, the example of New Zealand cannot be ignored. Human impacts bring the relationships among creatures into a sharper, and darker, relief.
* The young of marsupials such as kangaroos and wallabies are called joeys, and some call opossum babies joeys as well, but it’s not officially sanctioned language. There is actually no particular name for opossum young. Kit or kitten is generally acceptable for any small furry thing, but baby opossums are typically called, unimaginatively, young While researching the issue, Indiana State Wildlife Services biologist Judy Loven received some fitting suggestions, including papooses, larvae, and (her personal favorite) grubs.
* Kertson likes to point out that, unlike a real sweepstakes, the winners here are not random—they are drawn entirely from people who, even though they know bears are around, drag their trash to the curb at night instead of waiting for morning.
* Curiously, an increase of predators such as raccoons and coyotes in urban environments has not resulted in a simultaneous increase in predation upon bird nests, as might be expected. Research out of Ohio suggests that this is because anthropogenic food sources provide ready sustenance for at least part of these predators’ diets and decouples the long-standing connection between predator
presence and nest attacks. The urban forest is a strange place in which the essential relationships are both present and active but also messed with and tangled, in ways that we are just beginning to understand.
* For something that seems so innocuous, the listing of birds is a strangely controversial habit in naturalist circles. Listing birds, the argument goes, reduces individuals and species to twitches on a list; it doesn’t involve any real observations of birds seen, any edification for the watcher. It’s true that listing for the sake of listing can grow into more of an egoistic competition (even if the competition is just with oneself) than a naturalist pursuit. But it is also true that the majority of listers I know also happen to be the most amazing avian naturalists I know, full of love for their subject.
* I am referring here to the black-capped chickadee, the most common species of chickadee in North American urban, suburban, and park settings. There are seven other species of chickadee, some of which are also common in such places. While there are a few differences in behavior among chickadee species, most of what is true for the black-capped is pretty much true for the others.
* Thousands of people have witnessed crow funerals over the years, but the first serious mention of such activity in the academic literature came in the summer of 2012, when researchers at the University of California, Davis, described scrub jays, corvids closely related to crows, recognizing and gathering around the dead of their own species.
* When I started doing Crow Planet readings, I was pleasantly surprised at how many people from the audience would stand in line afterward, not just to have a book signed but also to share with me their crow ink—some of the tattoos rendered on body locations they could have bared publicly, some not. Depending on where I was reading, I learned to venture a question: “Does anyone have any crow tattoos they’d like to share?” This would go over with great success at, say, Powell’s bookstore in Portland, Oregon; with less success at the local Rotary Club.
* I once had a guinea pig named Tazmania who sometimes roamed loose in my apartment, along with Ani the cat and three parakeets. (I’m truly not a Crazy Pet Lady; this was just a random interlude in my single days.) An odd little peaceable kingdom it was—given half a chance, Ani would sneak onto the lanai when I wasn’t looking and quickly snatch a wild house finch, but she would never touch “her” parakeets, even when they sidled up to her and playfully picked at her whiskers, and she would actually lick and snuggle Taz. But whenever one of the parakeets flew over the guinea pig, poor Tazzie would flatten against the floor. This was an inbred pet-store rodent who had never been outdoors in his life, acting from an instinct buried in the DNA that links him to cavy ancestors in Peru. I think of him (RIP, Tazmania) whenever I feel that involuntary, prehuman rush at the presence of a hawk in flight.
* When I find an owl in the city, no matter how educated the trail that led me to it, it seems like an accident and a miracle. Even when an owl is present, it can be difficult to discover. Owls sleep during the day against tree trunks, wrapped in their soft camouflaged feathers, looking themselves like textured bark strewn with lichens. Even when I know exactly where to look for an owl, and I know the owl is there, I can’t always find it right away, or at all. Daytime hooting is almost always a dove or pigeon, no matter how owlish it sounds. The best way to observe owls is to go on an owl walk with your local Audubon Society or to ask someone who knows about such things. This is more complicated than it sounds—expect scrutiny! Birders are secretive and don’t want “their” owls disturbed. You may have to speak in hushed tones, proffer a bribe of home-baked bread, or otherwise prove yourself owl-worthy. Once you have found an owl, remember that owls have a fair bit of fidelity to their roosts, and you may be able to visit the same bird day after day.
* Chickens don’t really attract more rats to neighborhoods. The rats are already there. But they do bring rats to the nice coop you built, with its warm shelter and ever-full food and water dishes. If they get a chance, chickens will actually corner and kill rats.
* This lack of movement extends to the dying of trees. Humans are whisked quickly away after death. Other animals fall to earth and decompose, or desiccate with natural efficiency. But dead trees often remain standing, sometimes for years, their bodies living a life beyond themselves as continued shelter and food for grubs, birds, mammals, and epiphytic plants. When they do finally fall, their horizontal beings remain. Here in the moist Pacific Northwest, rich red cedars become “nurse” or “mother” logs, lying on a ferny earth as young honeysuckle, hemlock, and fir grow from their rich, decomposing bark. Far more than most animals, a tree maintains a presence and a life beyond itself that few humans will know. I heard Gary Snyder speak when he had just turned sixty years old and was feeling that at this age, he could officially be called wise. He speculated on how it would be if humans remained standing after death, as many trees do. “Did you hear?” quipped Snyder. “Thoreau finally fell over.”
* Some suggest that the star part of the name refers to the little white spots that shimmer on the tips of the bird’s black feathers during the non-breeding season. It is impossible to know the genesis of the name for certain.
* There are exaltations of larks and murders of crows. A flock of flying starlings is called, beautifully, a murmuration, but there is no official name for a terrestrial flock, as far as I know. Plague seems appropriate.
* Pigeons are officially considered feral rather than invasive. Early in this country’s history, rock pigeons (the common urban species) were brought over from England, propagated, kept by settlers, and carried along on journeys west as sources of food. All the urban pigeons we see today are descendants of these pioneer pigeons, many of whom escaped. Their native habitat includes rocky cliffs, and we can imagine them in such places when we see them on high city buildings.
* It is difficult to sex starlings accurately before they reach breeding age, the first spring after hatching. Often the irises of female birds are more defined around the pupil than those of young male birds, but this measure is subjective and only about 70 percent accurate. I used calipers to measure Carmen’s skull, which was in the female range, but ranges overlap—a large female skull can be larger than a small male skull. Once the birds acquire their breeding characteristics, things change. Males have longer, shaggier plumage on their shoulders and a punky look to their neck feathers, which are raised during singing and display. The bases of the bills also change color during breeding season and match our cultural stereotyping: girls’ are pink, boys’ are blue.
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Welcome
Dedication
The Bestiary’s Bestiary: A Note on Process
PART I. Entering the Bestiary A New Nature, a New Bestiary
The Lost Art of Urban Tracking
PART II. The Furred Coyote
Mole
Raccoon
Opossum
Squirrel (and Rat)
Black Bear and Cougar
PART III. The Feathered Bird
Starling, House Sparrow, Pigeon
Chickadee
Crow
Hawk and Owl
Chicken
PART IV. The Branching and the Rooted Tree
Human
Acknowledgments
A Preview of Mozart’s Starling
About the Author
Books by Lyanda Lynn Haupt
Select Bibliography
Newsletters
Copyright
Copyright
Copyright © 2013 by Lyanda Lynn Haupt
Illustrations by Tracie Noles-Ross
Cover design by Julianna Lee
Cover art by Olaf Hajek
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at permissions@hbgusa.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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ISBN 978-0-316-25078-8
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