Loss of a little woods brings sadness and reflection

I may not take change as well as I should. With me, it’s sort of a hear it-don’t accept it-process it again-well, maybe- process one more time -sort of accept the situation. Most of the time, if I am happy with something, I would just as soon leave it as it is.

For 23 years I have lived next to a lovely little woods that has been an important part of my life. It does not belong to me, so I have no say about it, and rightly so, but over time, I have kind of taken it as mine by proxy.

Neighborhood news says it is to be cleared out to make room for lots with houses on them. All the beautiful old shade trees are to be exchanged for houses and driveways and cars. Neighborhood news, of course, is like the game, “Telephone,” starting out with one rumor, that by the end of it, is something entirely different. We don’t fully know the words are so.

The news was dire enough for me to go into “No, no, you can’t do that to me” mode, even though the infamous “you” certainly can, and has every right to do so.

In my senior years, I project the future well. What I have had, I won’t have for the rest of my life as planned. No more judging earliness or lateness of the seasons by the ancient trees. The first fawns of the season are yearly presented to me by the does who park them for the day while they wander off to feed. Reunions upon their returns are beautiful as the fawns rush to nurse, and the does to cuddle. They have become so used to us that they stand and listen while we talk to them, come to the windows to look in and graze on our hosta with no fear of retribution. Watching the fawns learn to jump the fence for the first time, instead of crawling under it, is a joy. There will be no more deer.

Rabbits, raccoons, possums and groundhogs will no longer amuse us with their antics. I have photos of a groundhog sharing a feeding dish with my cat, neither concerned about the differences in their living situations.

Probably the hardest thing for me will be losing my beloved…yes, I said beloved, turkey vultures, those ugly terrifying birds that so many people fear are going to eat their dogs and cats or attack them. What I have learned since observing and studying them has been so important to me. 

These red-faced monsters with six-foot wing spans, are among the gentlest creatures alive. They do not kill, but only clean up the dregs left by humans and other animals. They are loving and polite with each other, taking a turn eating, and stepping back to let another partake. Amazement never ends each morning as I watch them arise, a single body of about 100, from the trees where they spent the night, perch on the tree behind my fence, and spread their wings to dry before taking off for their daily rounds. 

Amazement doesn’t end at evening when one by one they join each other above the trees until all are ready to roost. Once settled, you would never know there was a single one in the area. Those who call them ugly on the ground, should look up and see the silver of their wings as they soar and float on the breeze. They will move on to another little woods where they can find peace, instead of houses and cars and every-day living. 

There is no blame to be placed here. I understand the logistics of necessity, but it will be one of the greatest sadnesses of my life. The lovely creatures of the world, who even now are learning to share with us, despite their ethnic wildness and the fact that we are taking over their habitats, will soon be gone from our lives. It is a great loss.