While we’ve got a few other critters, such as the rare cougar and even rarer alligator, and hawks and owls and, of course, coyotes, squirrels, rats, dogs, cats, mice and the odd snake, and deer on the north side, I must say it strikes me that possum and ‘coons appear to be ubiquitous in North American urbana. A couple of very close friends live about eight blocks away from me, in the center of a this very big city, and they’ve trapped six possum in a few months at their house (I know, I know…, opossum - while it looks like I’m writing, I’m really just talkin’, and possum is what we call’em around here).
I see’em from time to time, but they had one move in to the attic. Maybe that marks a place (by scent or some such?). Or maybe I’d be surprised if I put out traps.
There’s a hawk that lives in the little neighborhood across the street from the building where I work. This neighborhood appears as an oasis of treetops amongst the skyscraper outcroppings surrounding it. From my just elevated enough fifth floor vantage I sometimes watch him (her? I don’t know) on lunch CAP - he’s got a definite patrol sequence and a CP at the northeast edge of the development, in a tall tree.
Now, I don’t know diddely about this from an academic standpoint, and I’m sadly getting away from this because I no longer (three months and counting folks) smoke during the day, but I did spend years observing the smaller, less remarkable, part of our avian urban population pass their day. Man, there’s a lot of’em. A knowledgeable sort could probably disabuse me of my notions, but it sure seemed to me that I’d observed things that I didn’t previously know about birds:
• most birds are social, they gather in huge groups in the morning and the evening, and during the day they roam in small groups or, sometimes, obvious pairs;
• man, I’m surprised at how much walking they do - a pair’ll land in the parking lot and walk all over the damn lot checking it out;
• while they seem aware of cats, they’ll act nonchalant until it becomes critical;
• the smaller the bird, the more the airhead it is (might this have something to do with cranial capacity?);
• you know how they always seem to flee from your car at the last moment? Well, not always;
• nature isn’t all the feeding and breeding of the DNA machine - birds fart around; they play. I’ve many a time seen, “OK, you be the F-105 and I’ll be the MIG-21” and watched’em play death-to-the-loser chase only to suddenly pull up and share a french fry;
• unless the really heavy iron is around, crows (sorry brachy, educate me) are the bad boys of the urban parking lots. They’re bigger than most, their call has an aggressive horn honk sound to it, and I lived with one for a couple of years who aggressively attacked his reflection in my mirrored office window (I’m convinced he was quite daft from concussions by the time I left).