Our Gang
When I arrive in at our log cabin in Green Bank, West Virginia, the first thing I do is head for the basement to get a 50 pound bag of corn and a 20 pound bag of birdseed. I want “our gang” to have food out and available the first time they pass through.
The corn feeder is built between two trees, and it’s located about 25 feet from our dining room window. The feeder is six feet long, nine inches wide, and two and a half inches deep. It has a shingled roof above to keep the feed dry. Within about 10 minutes of my arrival it is brimming with dried corn, a favorite meal of many of our forest friends.
The bird feeder is next. It is suspended from a pipe 14 feet in the air attached between two trees, which are wrapped in brown metal flashing to keep the bears, raccoons, and squirrels from raiding the feeder. A pulley system is used to raise and lower the feeder. I put a ladder against the tree, climb up and untie the rope, and let the bird feeder slowly descend to the ground. Lifting the lid, the entire 20 pounds of seed fits into the homemade feeder. Then it’s pulled back up, the rope is tied off, and the ladder goes back into the basement.
Now that the wildlife food is put out, I can go about emptying my truck of the clothes, groceries and other things I’ve brought from New Jersey. The big question now is - who will arrive first to begin feeding?
When I arrived here in West Virginia the other day, a Wednesday, it took about five hours before I saw a black-capped chickadee in the bird feeder. Once again, he led the way. I can always count on him to get the word out, and he didn’t let me down. Within a few hours, the feeder looked like a bus depot, with nuthatches, juncos, tufted titmice, finches, and sparrows dashing in and out for seed.
The corn feeder usually takes longer to attract attention. The first day there was no action. At first light on Thursday morning, I saw a red squirrel making his herky-jerky march to the feeder. A minute later, another red squirrel joined him. Wow, this was a first. I’d never seen two red squirrels at once before, thinking there was only one.
In another few minutes, their arch enemy arrived - a gray squirrel. “Oh, this will be fun,” I thought. The gray squirrel chased the reds up and down the two trees, but it was hard for him to keep two reds at bay. He’d chase one and the other would quickly scamper to the feeder to grab a kernel of corn. The battle for dominance of the feeder was on.
Not so fast, my friends! Two white-tailed deer appeared, both born last spring and now about 10 months old, that we named Alfalfa and Darla. They quickly asserted their authority and took over the feeder. The squirrel battle was now a mute point. They would have to wait until the deer were through eating.
Alfalfa and Darla were spotted fawns, only a month old or so, when we first spotted them last spring with their mothers. They were so much fun to watch. At that age, they can suddenly break into a run as if testing out their legs. Just as suddenly, they’ll stop and act as if nothing just happened.
Alfalfa and Darla, perhaps since they grew up around us, are much more accepting of our presence than their mothers, whom we named Dolly and Ruthie after our own mothers. Those two adults, probably now three years old, have an inherent distrust of us that was probably ingrained through surviving a couple hunting seasons. Who can blame them? They tolerate us, but that’s all.
Throughout the day, the four deer and 30 or so birds would pop in and out. Eat a while, then leave. They all seemed content knowing that while the human was around, a family-style buffet was being served.
- Mountain Man