The animals in our lives, and how they amaze us

Spoiler alert: Today, this space is devoted to wildlife, and not-so-wild life, including a bit about our goofy cat, Missy Kitty.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

The deer

It’s hard to believe it was two years ago this week we moved from a house in a leafy, mature subdivision to a house in a beautifully landscaped retirement community.

In our subdivision house, we hated the marauding deer that ate just about anything we planted in the yard that wasn’t bigger than the deer themselves.

Those were the days when we spent gobs of money on deer repellents, deterrents and bright lights with motion detectors. None of it was effective, of course.

That’s when we were hearty advocates of an officially sanctioned deer-hunting season. Bow or rifle. Either one would do just fine

That’s when we warned of the perils of deer overpopulation in an urban setting. The deer would attract higher-ups in the food chain, which meant more coyotes, mountain lions and black bears. We could see them coming. Soon.

It’s amazing, then, to report to you that, after two years of residential retirement to a place where all the lawn care and landscaping are maintained by busy workers who keep the place in tiptop shape year around, we are buddies with the deer once more.

There are a few efforts here and there to grow summer blossoms and an occasional tomato plant with some success. But, for the most part, the deer are no longer our enemy. They have, once again, become cute creatures that delight us when they emerge from the thick hedge across the street.

Yes, retirement communities are full of deer. Why not? The neighborhood is quiet. There isn’t much traffic at all. And we haven’t seen a single rifle-toting hunter during our whole two years here. Sounds like a deer sanctuary to me.

Nowadays, my wife and I spot deer in our yard and say things like, “Oh, aren’t they cute,” and, “Look at the twin fawns. They look just like Bambi.”

On several occasions, we have seen four or more deer at one time. We humanize them by calling them a family: a buck, a doe and the twin fawns, still with their spots.

They come right up to one of our bedroom windows and leave nose prints on the panes. They are no more afraid of seeing us than we are of seeing them. It’s an arrangement that works to everyone’s satisfaction.

The owl and the bunny

Not all of nature’s displays around our house end well for everyone.

Several months ago, we watched from our laundry-room window as a redtail hawk sat on a limb in our neighbor’s tree, cocking its head this way and that as it kept track of a smaller bird in a shrub. When the hawk attacked, it swooped in, grabbed the bird with its talons and soared back into the tree, ripping its prey in a flurry of feathers.

One day last week, my wife called from the kitchen window where she was watching another standoff between a huge owl, possibly a great horned owl, and a good-sized brown rabbit in the evergreen trees in our backyard. The limbs of the trees spread all the way to the ground. The owl sat on a higher limb and watched the bunny scurry from one ground-level limb to another, seeking to hide from the owl’s keen eyes.

All of a sudden, the owl swooped down to the lower limbs, expecting to come up with a fistful of rabbit, but the furry creature scampered to the next tree over and found another low limb to hide under. This went on for quite a while until the owl finally moved on to an easier dinner.

You have to hand it to that bunny — which, by the way, may have been protecting a nest of little ’uns under the big evergreen tree. If so, the rabbit was doing what just about any mother would do, and even the wise owl figured he was outsmarted this time.

The goofy cat

Our cat, Missy Kitty, has both my wife and I wrapped around her little paw. Everyone knows that.

As a result, Missy Kitty wants for nothing. But, being a cat, she always tries to get more.

Missy Kitty is a small cat. But she can, amazingly, stretch up from her hind legs and put her paws on the edge of the kitchen countertop. She rarely does this, and only if she really, really, really wants something to eat.

One time it was roasted pork loin. She had to have a taste. She particularly liked the sauce the loin was cooked in.

Younger son’s cat in Seattle, named Cat, is a much larger tomcat version of Missy Kitty. He too wants for nothing. Nothing. But what does he beg for?

Potatoes.

Any cooked potato, in Cat’s mind, is something to be aggressively sought. That’s almost as bad as the dog we knew who loved dill pickles. But that’s another story.

Over the weekend, we enjoyed my wife’s homemade spaghetti sauce. We went to Panera for a French baguette to have with the pasta. While I was slicing the bread, Missy Kitty appeared in the kitchen and reached all the way up to the countertop. Thinking she would leave if I gave her a bit of baguette, my wife and I were amazed as we watched the cat eat the bread and then beg for more.

Bread? A cat?

We’ve had Missy Kitty now for six years, which means she is about 7 years old. My wife and I wonder how many surprises like this we have in store.

Joe Sullivan is the retired editor of the Southeast Missourian.