Watch your step

Of all the troubles in the United States today, of all the troubles in the world at large, I just had one of the scares of my life come from one of God's furry little creatures. On my walk this morning I was threatened very definitively by a raccoon.

I came around a corner and heard this violent hissing. At first I couldn't see what or where it was and took another step. Then I heard it again and, looking around and finally down, this raccoon was letting me know in no uncertain terms that my presence was most unwelcome.

That scared me. There was that instant where I didn't know what to do: do I run, do I keep walking, do I back off, what? The animal leaned back into the hedge it was up against and hissed further warnings so that I about half expected it to pounce. I noticed no foam at the mouth, which I thought good. But how much that would matter if it actually attacked I don't know.

After a long second or two where I had momentarily stopped I simply altered my course and crossed the street at an angle, my head cocked around to keep an eye on the animal. It hissed one final time and slid back into the hedge. That was fine by me.

Perhaps I had startled a momma concerned for her kids. I in fact assume that, for if it was rabid, well, I'd likely be in Harper Hospital just now. And you wouldn't hear about this until tomorrow. For me, I'm simply happy I didn't take one more step forward. I'll surely avoid that particular hedge the next few days as well.

Woodbridge wildlife

Nature is resilient. That's one of the reasons that I'm not all that concerned about global warming/climate change/nuclear winter or whatever it's now being called. Nature will rebound; it will adapt. I need look no further than my neighborhood, Woodbridge in Detroit, to see that's true.

Over the years we've seen pheasant, rabbits, and raccoons living vibrantly nearby. And along with them come the predators. I recall watching a hawk land upon the top of a utility pole, it's wingspan at least five feet, the large bird honestly majestic as it settled gently on its perch. It looked down at me like, yeah, I could take you. If I wanted to. I'm glad it did not want.

But recently an unexpected denizen has taken up in our area. Three times recently, right outside the Shop, my humble workplace, I've seen a beaver. I have no idea where it came from, although there is a larger block nearby which appears to have turned to swamp or wetland. I presume it comes from there.

If such a variety of wildlife can adapt to a central city, I'm not too worried about the world as a whole.