Very Little Wildlife

The last few trips I have taken to the North Carolina mountains have been disappointing as far as spotting wildlife is concerned. Over the past year I have seen almost nothing of note in my wandering through the wild and rural areas of our high country. I know it's just the luck of the draw, but it had been disappointing to be ready to see wildlife but encountering very little.

On the last full day we had at Van Hook, our camping companions Adam, Kelley, and their little boy Logan wanted to go fishing. So we went over to Cliffside Lake adjacent to the campground so that Adam and Logan could toss out the lures a few times. It was later in the afternoon, and the almost constant rain of four days had slackened enough to be able to allow them to go fishing.

While everyone else stayed to fish or watch someone fish, I opted to hike around the lake and try to spot some wildlife. And I did manage to see just a few things, which follow as photos and captions:

This is the dam which forms the lake. I haven't looked it up, but I would not be surprised to learn that it was a project of the Civilian Conservation Corps.

Looking across the lake. The dam and spillway are on the left.

I took this one while sitting on a picnic table on the far side of the lake from Carole, Adam, Kelley, and Logan. There was another family at this spot and they had me use their camera to take a family photograph of them.

Not sure what species this is. It was on the ground hunting for food.

This is a Pileated woodpecker. They are really big birds and their wings make a lot of noise when they take flight. Unfortunately, the ones I do encounter are really skittish and flee and move a lot to avoid humans. I couldn't quite focus my telephoto lens on this one before it vanished into the trees.

And this was one of two baby snapping turtles we saw at the edge of the lake. Well, that was some wildlife, but not what I was hoping to encounter. We did hear a couple of raccoons ramble through the campsite deep in the night (they woke Carole up). They didn't cause any mischief with us, but they did somehow steal two sticks of butter from the guy camping adjacent to us.

Yellowjacket Apocalypse

Remember the yellowjacket nest? Well, my mother-in-law was as good as her word. She killt them. She's pretty good at it. What you have to do is go out to the nest after dark. The yellowjackets are all but dormant after sunset and less likely to swarm and sting. So she went out with a small bottle of gasoline and poured some into the entrance to the nest. She didn't drench the ground or anything. Just poured a little in there.

She repeated the process for three days.

After the third day she went out and to check the nest for activity. What she found was that instead of a small entrance tunnel buzzing with yellowjackets she saw a large hole in the ground!

The yellowjackets were obviously dead. Where the nest had been there was now a deep hole. Something had come to the now-vacant nest and had dug it up for the grubs in the combs.

Typically, there are three animals who would do this. Yellowjacket grubs are pure fat and protein. Some mammals like them so much that they'll risk getting stung severely to feast on the grubs. The calorie reward outweighs the pain. Black bears have been known to travel through the forest digging them up and feasting on the nests.

But this hole, while decent, was certainly not made by a bear. So, the three local critters at the top of my list are: raccoons, skunks, and foxes.

Whatever dug that hole was really good at it. Raccoons can dig, but I've never seen one construct such an efficient excavation. Skunks are exceptional diggers, but Faye said she never smelled a skunk around, and they're hard to miss. So my guess is that the nest was dug up and consumed by a gray fox. There are lots of them around that part of the county. I've seen them, mainly in the evening.

No more yellowjacket nest. Faye killt the adults and this left the grubs vulnerable. Of course they'd have died anyway without the colony to feed and care for them. Or it's even possible the same gas fumes that killed the adults did in the grubs.

Must not have affected the flavor, though, because there was not one grub left.

Hole where the nest had been.

There were bits of yellowjacket nest scattered around.

You can see that the grubs were all gone...gobbled up.

The Little Pest

In the meantime...


Here's an old video I posted before, but it's still funny.

This is the pest raccoon who raided our campsite time and again. She got so bold she finally just came out one day while Carole was grilling our dinner and posted herself to wait for the right moment to act. I had to stand guard with a broom. Looking back, I think she was pregnant. Seemed a little large for just fat. (There is some coarse language on this video.)

The Little Asshole

Everyone likes raccoons. They're really cute and they're usually not up to anything much in the way of mischief. They cruise around looking for stuff to eat. No biggie.

One thing to keep in mind about them is that they are highly intelligent critters. They're carnivorous, of course, but in habit they are classic omnivores. Like their big cousins, the bears, they will eat just about anything that's remotely edible. They'll go after minnows, snakes, frogs, lizards, bugs, larvae, berries, fruit, leaves, shoots, tubers...you name it and they'll probably eat it.

In Florida, almost every picnic area and campground is packed with these little assholes. In such a habitat they are pests of the first degree. In addition, they can be downright dangerous. They can scratch and they can bite. The latter is especially dangerous as they are also one of the most likely animals to contract and pass the dreaded rabies virus.

One year when we were camping at Blue Spring State Park in Florida, our campsite was constantly being hit by a particularly aggressive raccoon. As things progressed, I began to figure that the animal in question was a pregnant female whose focus was on fattening up to feed the womb full of future raccoon assholes she was carrying. They will learn many bad habits from their mother, I am sure.

It wasn't fifteen minutes into setting up our campsite that she first hit. While we were erecting the awning on our travel trailer, she rushed over, pushed up the top to a cooler, and grabbed a pack of hamburger patties we'd brought along. Before we could react she had them in her mouth and was off into the bush from whence she'd appeared.

Later, she returned and, unable to find any food, snatched one of Carole's sandals and took that into the shrubs where we were never able to find it. I'm convinced she did that out of spite for not being able to find any food.

The next evening, while we were watching a DVD in the trailer, we felt a change in air pressure. We turned to look toward the door, and peeking around the side of the refrigerator was the little asshole raccoon. She had pried the door open (we hadn't locked it) and barged right in. Carole screamed and the little masked face vanished and off she went, once more into the low-growing shrubs.

The next day, while we were grilling steaks for dinner, we looked at the edge of our campsite to see that she had come back. She just stood there looking at us, sizing us up. I began to get the distinct feeling that she was gauging her chances at making a rush at us to see if we'd scatter so that she could make a grab for those steaks. I was having none of that, so I picked up the broom we keep under the awning and held it as if it were a club.

"Get out of here you little asshole," I said.

The raccoon was not impressed. Instead, she considered her further options and just plopped down as comfortable as you please to wait us out. As long as I stood my ground, she wasn't going anywhere. After some discussion of the situation between the raccoon and myself, I decided to get a little more aggressive. I stood up and advanced on her, explaining that she'd have to go.

Finally, the little asshole relinquished her post and ambled off into the scrub forest from which she'd initially emerged.

We reported the situation to the park ranger, of course. She came and set out traps, but the last morning we were there, the only thing that had been dumb enough to take the bait was a clueless opossum. Probably a male.

"Hello. I'm yer friendly neighborhood bandit."

"Badges? We don't need no stinking badges."

"I'm just pretending to be cute."

"One more step, fat man, and I'll sink these into your calves."

"I've got all day. My middle name is patience."

"Yep. I'll just stretch out here and take it easy."

"I smell those steaks. Ribeyes, too. I'm good that way."

The next morning, the trap the ranger brought only had a dumbass possum inside.

And later, just before we took our leave, a gorgeous (threatened species) scrub jay arrived to pluck the bait from the trap without springing it. We told the ranger on our way out that they would need to re-bait the live trap. And just in case you're wondering, the rangers don't kill asshole raccoons who terrorize the campers. They just relocate them.

Raccoons R Us

I was talking about this particular raccoon today at work.

Every time we go to Florida, Carole and I have encounters with raccoons. They are exceedingly common down there, and each park is loaded with them. Because they have become habituated to humans and our foods, they can often be persistent. But it was on a trip to Blue Springs State Park that we found out just how bold they can be.

This one was the boldest of the lot, I have to say.

She came right into the middle of our campsite and plunked herself right down.

When we arrived, she turned over our cooler while we were transferring stuff from the back of the truck into the travel trailer. Our backs were turned and before we could react she had the cooler on its side, had snagged a packet of fresh steaks, and was off into the brush.

Yeah, they look cute. But they have a mouthful of sharp teeth and they are one of the first animals to get rabies when that disease is running its course through an ecosystem.

The next evening Carole left the door to the trailer slightly ajar. We were sitting in bed watching television. We felt the air pressure change and turned to see this same raccoon peering at us from beside the refrigerator. Carole screamed. The raccoon retreated. But not before it took one of Carole's casual shoes that she had sitting beside the door. We never did find that shoe. My feeling has always been that she took that shoe out of spite because we chased her away.

The next day the raccoon returned and came out of the forest into our campsite as we were preparing lunch. She wanted her share, but we don't (intentionally) feed the wildlife. I tried to shoo her away, but she was having none of that. I had to position myself between the raccoon and Carole at the grill to keep the critter at bay. I had a broom in my hands and figured I might have to use it to swat this bear's little cousin. Finally, though, I was able to frighten her off--it was while she was patiently waiting, relaxing there on the ground in front of me that I reckoned that she was pregnant. Either that or she was just one extremely fat raccoon. I suspect the former.

I can wait, she said.

We went to the ranger station to warn them about this particular raccoon, so they brought a live trap and set it up next to the trailer. In the morning, before we left, it had nabbed a possum. We weren't staying over again, so we never found out if they got the raccoon. (And, no, they weren't going to hurt her, just move her to another part of the park.)

Yeah, fat man. I'm all concerned about you and your broom. Almost as concerned as I am over this damned flea.

Too Tired!

I wrote yesterday but not last night. I was too damned tired. So close to finishing the new novel. Just a few more days, Jove willing.

This was a raccoon who was spying on us at Manatee Springs State Park in Florida. She wanted to steal our food but we were wise to her. She ended up climbing down from the tree over our trailer and wandering off.

Notable Critters

Carole and Andy and I have encountered many animals in our travels to various parks and forests around the southeast. We've bumped in to everything from big mammals like elk, bears, coyotes, and manatees, to really tiny things like butterflies and scorpions.

But there have been a couple of exceedingly notable critters in all of our trips, and both of these were encountered in separate journeys to Florida.

The first really standout animal was a thieving hawk who posted itself at our campsite at Juniper Springs Recreation Area and attempted to steal the steaks and burgers from our grill. However, Carole had stoked the grill so aggressively that the coals were super-hot. Just at the point the raptor was almost able to grab the meat off the coals, the temperature was so intense that he had to swerve aside at the last instant and so left with nothing but the sounds of our surprise.

The hawk (I don't know if it was a he or a she), then took up temporary residence in a tree above our campsite and waited for us to make the mistake it would need to take food. But we'd figured out its game and finally it gave up. Instead, it flew to a family a few campsites over from us and took their steaks. Better their dinner than ours, I say.

Later, we encountered a campground regular who had dealings with the hawk from previous trips. He just posted a portable umbrella over his grill area and that settled that.

"Yeah, I'm guilty. What ya gonna do about it?"

The second critter that made an impression on us was the raccoon who tormented us for days at Blue Spring State Park. The first day we were there, as we were setting up our camp, this raccoon showed up while our backs were turned and snagged a packet of hamburgers from the cooler it had overturned while we were otherwise engaged. All we could do was follow its felonious little footprints into the underbrush. Lesson learned.

Later that night, as we were watching TV in our travel trailer, Carole looked as the same raccoon opened our front door (Carole had left it ajar) and barged into our personal living space! Carole screamed bloody murder as its small masked face appeared around the edge of the refrigerator. The noise forced the trouble-making asshole into a hasty retreat. But Carole must have angered the varmint, for the following morning she looked for her sandals (which she'd left by the door) only to find that one of them had been stolen. We never found it, and the only explanation that makes any sense at all is that the raccoon took it out of spite.

The day after that the raccoon returned again. She came out of the brush as we were preparing lunch and sat herself down right in the middle of our campsite and dared me to try to move her. By this time I was fairly sure it was a female, since she looked to be very pregnant. Yes, it could just have been a particularly fat and healthy raccoon, but I tend to think she was pregnant and eating for the many little assholes growing in her womb.

I had to post myself between her and the food that day. Later, we stopped at the ranger station to complain and the ranger showed up with a live trap. The next morning it only held a silly possum, and we had to leave soon after. The ranger assured us that if she caught the real culprit that she would not harm her, only move her away from the campground. I'd like to think that she didn't cause anyone else the problems that she made for us, but who knows?

She sure looked pregnant to me.

Carolina Blue

Sunday was a typical carbon-induced warm day. It was February 1st, but felt like it should be the middle of May. So much for the global warming deniers.
I went to a local park to try to get at least a small taste of Mother Nature.

In these nearby parks I can walk through a patch of woods and gaze into a stream or two, but it's not the same as hiking into a wilderness. The main reason for this is that you cannot escape from the sound of automobiles and other machinery. No matter what, you're going to hear the growl of some kind of engine and constant movement of cars and trucks. There just isn't enough forest to shield you from those sounds, and sometimes not even from the stench of burning diesel.

I was able to enjoy myself to a certain extent, though. It was relatively quiet and I found a little peace there in the park. I saw where a raccoon had been walking through a small stream looking for something to eat. His tracks were everywhere, both on the shore and in the bed of the tiny creek. Also, I happened upon some green plants on the forest floor that I had only seen in the high mountains before today. I forget the name of this species, but from what I understand they're very ancient and have been around since the Jurassic. Sometimes people call them "miniature pine".

Another nice thing about the brief walk through the forest was the clarity of the skies. They were cloudless and perfectly blue.