A case in point is the fact that the types of animals that are often considered "nuisance" animals in suburban and city landscapes are far from causing a nuisance here. Despite the fact that we have garbage cans sitting under the deck and bird food and suet in bird feeders, we have never been plagued by marauding raccoons, skunks, or porcupines. And, even though we live a stone's throw from the ocean and witness seagulls flying overhead almost all the time, not one of these notorious scavengers has ever landed in our yard. It would appear, that given the opportunity, these animals are more than content to avoid the possibility of human interaction.

A penchant for avoidance notwithstanding, we have been fortunate to occasionally bear witness to wild animals going about their daily routines, unaware or unconcerned that they were being watched. There was the sighting of a moose while I was out walking the dog on a neighboring property. There was the deer emerging out of the woods to sip a drink from our pond. There was the fox mother in our backyard, patiently surveying her surroundings as her kit playfully frolicked. There was the porcupine the plodded across the yard during a downpour, deftly climbed up a tree, and proceeded to gets it's fill of succulent leaves, oblivious to the miserable weather.

And there are those unseen signs that there is a lot more going on around us than we are able to observe. The tracks in the snow from "invisible" deer, fox, and who-knows-what. The screeches, hoots, and hollers from those creatures that work the night shift. The scat, fur, and feathers left around and among the woods.

Working at home, in an office with a window overlooking the backyard, has afforded me the opportunity to observe the day-to-day activities of the animals which regularly pass through. I must confess, though, that when I am observing these animals in the backyard, I'm not exactly seeing them in their "natural" environment, Like many homeowners, we have bird feeders hanging from a few trees. Also, last spring, we began tossing cracked corn out on the lawn in an attempt to attract ducks to your pond. That practice has continued to this day, although, for reasons you will read later, I am seriously doubting the wisdom of that practice. So, as you can see, when I am watching wildlife in the backyard, I am essentially seeing the way in which wild animals behave in an "all-you-can-eat, free" environment.

When you have bird feeders you, of course, attract squirrels. Lots and lots of squirrels. There are all kinds of "squirrel-proof" bird feeders on the market, all of which, I'm convinced, are designed to make the inventor rich, the purchaser poor, and the squirrels merely temporarily inconvenienced. Therefore, I have chosen to deal with the squirrels in a manner designed to help maintain the sanity of all involved. My solution is to refer to the feeding stations hanging from the trees as "squirrel feeders." If a bird or two also happens to filch a meal from these contraptions, then all the better.

The idea to put out cracked corn to attract the ducks to the pond was hatched after I observed a mallard couple flying in to the pond last spring, hanging around for 10 or 20 minutes a few times a day, and then flying off. If I offered them a reason to stay, I reasoned, they would stay. And it worked. Soon, these two mallards were joined, and ultimately overwhelmed, by a collection of wood ducks. The male wood duck is an intensely handsome bird, so it seemed that the price of the cracked corn was a reasonable exchange for the opportunity to view the 20+ individuals of this species that were showing up on a daily basis. During the summer, the wood ducks became scarcer, but were replaced by black ducks. In the fall, the black duck numbers dwindled and the mallards took over. Of all the duck species observed in our backyard, only the mallards have chosen to stick around during the winter.

In early January, a band of wild turkeys discovered why the mallards were so intrigued with our backyard, and they've been around ever since. It has been a particularly cold winter, with steady snow cover, so we've felt obligated to continue the daily feedings despite the fact that 18 turkeys, on top of 20 or so ducks, go through quite a bit of cracked corn a day.

This scenario seemed to be making everyone happy - we got to be entertained by the birds every day, and the birds were assured of a regular meal. About three weeks ago, however, this idyllic little winter scene abruptly went bad.

One morning, I was working at my computer and occasionally glancing out the window to see what was going on in "my" woods. During one of these glances, I noticed a duck flying up from the back yard, seemingly on it's way back to the bay. When it was about 15 feet off of the ground, however, a hawk swooped down and grabbed it in it's talons. It took the duck down in the snow and stood on it's back. A duck is not a small bird, and the hawk was only slightly larger than it's quarry, but a beak and talons made for killing gave the hawk a definite advantage.

I will spare you the gory details of what happened next. Suffice it to say that, unlike what I had expected, the "kill" was neither swift nor efficient. And the hawk didn't seem to mind. Having a clear view of the action during all this time, I was able to determine that the hawk was a juvenile Northern Goshawk, a bird who's primary diet is other birds.

After the kill, as the hawk was busily tearing at and consuming the carcass, the band of turkeys showed up in search of the cracked corn. Upon seeing the turkeys approach, the hawk crouched down, spreading it's wings over it's kill, and remained motionless while the turkeys scratched the snow about 50 feet away. After about 15 minutes, the hawk apparently became convinced that the turkeys weren't going anywhere soon and he got up and started tearing at the duck again. The turkeys immediately took note of this and, as a group, ran over to this curiosity. I'm not sure what the turkey's motivation was, but they were clearly agitated by the hawk's presence and were determined to make him leave. And they were successful. After the hawk flew away, a number of the turkeys walked up to the duck carcass and eyed it inquisitively.

Eventually, the turkeys moved on and the hawk returned to finish his meal. He ate all but the wings, head, and feet. The next morning, those items, too, were gone, and the fresh fox tracks indicated that the duck was sustenance to more than just the hawk.

Having attracted the ducks to the backyard I was, of course, feeling largely responsible for its demise. Two days later, when a similar scenario played itself out, we attempted to thwart the attack. Denise opened a window and started yelling at the hawk, which caused it to fly off. I bundled up (it was a sweltering 2 degrees and windy out) and went to check on the duck. What I discovered, unfortunately, was that the hawk had managed to break one of the duck's wings. I attempted to catch the poor creature (although I wasn't entirely sure what to do with it when I did), but my attempts only agitated the wounded duck and it wouldn't let me get near it. Sadly, I concluded that it would be best to let nature take its course. The hawk would be back soon enough, I reasoned. Or, rather, hoped - it was predicted to get to 15 below that night and the injured duck would certainly not fare well sitting in the snow.

The hawk did return. Unfortunately, it did not choose to finish off the injured duck. Instead, it made another duck its victim. Further evidence that you shouldn't try to tamper with nature. Later, I made another attempt at capturing the injured duck but was unsuccessful. The next morning, the imprints in the snow told the story of the duck's movements and its eventual encounter with a fox.(Hint: the fox wins)

The hawk appears to have an insatiable appetite for ducks. So far, we have watched or seen evidence of eight kills. I'm beginning to wonder if there will be any ducks left to breed in the spring.

Among other things, these activities have taught me that hawk beats duck, but turkey beats hawk. I had begun to wonder if there was anything that beats turkeys, since these big birds didn't seem to be afraid of anything other than humans. That question got answered last week when a flurry of commotion commenced outside my window. All of a sudden, and for no apparent reason, the crows in the trees began squawking noisily, the ducks feeding in the yard quickly flew off, and the turkeys quickly ran for cover into the woods. A few seconds later, a bald eagle soared over the barn and swooped down over the backyard. It continued on without incident, but a few minutes later, when it returned for another fly over, the turkeys once again retreated into the woods. Eagle beats turkey.

A couple of days ago, a dead raccoon showed up outside my basement door. It appeared healthy (other than being dead, of course) and showed no outward sign of trauma. I still haven't figured that one out and probably never will. Just another day in the "wild kingdom."