My husband and I retired a little over a year ago, sold our house in the suburbs, bought a 9 acre grapefruit orchard in a isolated rural area in California and moved into our dream home. Our nearest neighbor is almost a mile away and we look down on several thousand unoccupied acres (except of course for a few free ranging cattle and LOTS of coyotes).
Needless to say there has been a somewhat steep learning curve as we city slickers learn to live in our new rural home. We update our friends and family regularly on our adventures adjusting to rural life in emails I entitle, "Holler Happenings."
Holler Happenings August 2009
A couple days ago I went out the front door watching the ground carefully for rattlesnakes as is my standard operating procedure now after nearly stepping on several Southern Pacifics in my flip flops, when my eye registered some movement to my right at the front door. I saw a flash of something that looked exactly like a velociraptor head in the movie Jurassic Park. My body kept moving forward while my brain was issuing an error statement, "No! You didn't see that." I turned my head and there is this 3 1/2-foot tall creature, with a very long neck and a 4+-inch rapier beak standing almost grazing my elbow.
I don't enjoy these up close and personal animal encounters except on TV. I kept moving, rounded the house, and knocked on my husband's office window with what must have been a very serious face, because he immediately let me in the back door. Explaining breathlessly that, "There’s a creature out there…" We hurriedly went to peer through the safety of our front window.
My husband says, (and this is no lie), "Wow. That's a really big roadrunner!" He definitely needs to go to summer school at the zoo, as I am always saying ever since we moved to the country.
The creature was, as I surmised and proved with google, a Great Blue Heron.
Anyway, we watched him on and off throughout the day, or more accurately, he watched us. Every time you went up to a window or door, presto! He was there! I ventured out at one point to toss him some chicken, which he didn't eat, and he picked his legs up like he was walking on lily pads and walked directly towards me. When he got too close, I backed up and returned to the house.
He ended up following me around the house. He slept under my open bedroom window at night, when I opened the blind in the morning, there he was, a foot away from me. When I was walked to the French doors, there he was with his beak against the glass. If I opened a door, he seemed intent on coming into the house. We focused on preventing this at all costs. Needless to say, he didn't seem at all afraid of us, rather more than willing to move right in.
He didn't show any obvious signs of injury but I knew he couldn't live here long without food and water and I knew his behavior was not normal
I googled Great Blue Heron’s again and learned they use their beaks like skewers and aim at eyes and faces when threatened. You shouldn’t try to feed or give them water. If you want to catch them, you are to throw a blanket over them and secure their beak. This is not recommended. No shit.
All my calls this day were fruitless. Project Wildlife’s answering phone kept disconnecting me, some Friends of Marsh Birds organization didn't return my emails, ditto, on and on.
The next day, Sunday, I got a hold of a wildlife rescue organization through the humane society. They agreed to come to the holler after they rescued an eagle with a broken wing and possum that was trapped. They advised me to "steer clear" of the bird as it's beak was a lethal weapon. No shit.
I told them I would meet them at the top of the gate. Around a half an hour before they came, I noticed Dino, (yes we ended up naming him after the Flintstones pet dinosaur), was trying to hunt in my hydrangeas.
I nervously left the safety of the house and walked around from the side yard and up the very long driveway to meet the wildlife folks, expecting at any moment to feel the impact of a beak in my back. Didn't happen.
The wildlife folks, who do this in their spare time for fun as volunteers, drove down the driveway, with me safely hiding (I mean watching) from their van. Just as they pull up, Dino lifts his head with a good 8-inch alligator lizard thrashing in his beak. I insisted the rescuers wait to let Dino eat. I would have let him stay here if I knew he was going to be okay, because he would eat our snakes. Of course I wouldn't be able to leave the house, but that is a small price to pay for a good snake eater.
The rescuers, surprised said, "You've got roadrunners here! Look see them, they're watching."
They repeated this again until I acknowledged that the roadrunners are always here watching us through the windows as we eat, sleep etc. We are as interesting as American Idol to them. They are especially nosey when friends visit, resulting in many a startled guest saying, "There’s a roadrunner watching me through the window." They probably found this heron business to be the entertainment highlight of their summer season.
Anyway, Dino watching us now along with the roadrunners, consumed the lizard. The rescuers got out and flanked Dino on both sides with nets. Dino went under the parasol I had rigged to protect the hydrangeas. One rescuer got a gloved hand around his beak, and another got a hold of his body. Dino made a single stab at the woman rescuer’s hand and let out one strange "squack" sound. That was it.
The rescuers examined Dino (I bravely came out of the van now) and said he smelled like carrion, was too skinny and too pale. They were taking him to their center, going to place an IV in a wing vein, secure him in "zoo wrap, and have the vet draw blood tomorrow to see if he was poisoned.
They said he was a protected bird, and they were required by law to release him within seven miles of where he was rescued, if he recovered.
I gave them a bag of grapefruits (the best ruby reds) and a donation for their project.
We live such an exciting life out here in the holler.
Oh, and our soon to move in new neighbors, from the coast (yup we soon will have a neighbor), drove up while this was happening and were just too thrilled. They have no idea of what they are in for. They envision their grandchildren running free all over, in the beautiful embrace of nature. We helpfully didn't mention the coyote packs, rattlesnake infestations, black widow spiders, bark scorpions and free roaming pit bills. They will learn soon enough.
Anyway, my question is, do you think Dino will come back?
