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My Dad and the Critters
My dad’s lead a rich, full life – good jobs, raised 5 children,
devoted wife. He sailed his sailboat,
the Foudroyant, across the Atlantic when he was 65 and only sold it 4 years ago
when he was 80.
But
since then, how shall I say it, he has become a little obsessive.
Monomaniacal? You see his great passion now is his garden and it is indeed truly
spectacular – cascades of multi-coloured tulips in May, voluptuous prize irises
in June, incandescent rhododendrons, tangerine poppies and delicate
columbine. It’s really quite a thing of
beauty.
But
it’s his obsession with the fauna that inhabit his garden that I’m concerned
about. He traps them. Oh, not deadly traps. He just lures them
with a piece of brown bread crust and peanut butter into a little wire cage and
then transports them to a nearby park in his car. To date he’s trapped 123 squirrels, 4 skunks, 3 raccoons and God
knows what else.
They
eat his bulbs he claims. He even keeps
score on a sheet in the porch marked critters on one side and me on the other.
Oh, he
jokes about this and seems to have some sympathy for his refugees. Oh, and when he caught his first skunk he
had to call pest control to remove it. But now he’s not in the least bit afraid. He just puts a towel over the cage and off he goes.
“Caught another skunk last night. Have to take him down to the park this morning. Hasn’t had anything to eat all night.”
Now this is really kind in a
way. I suppose he’s right – they do eat
the bulbs. Especially the squirrels I
think. 123 squirrels? Do you think he exaggerates? At least he
doesn’t hunt though I wonder if this doesn’t have something to do with some
dormant hunting gene in his body.
Now this is a pastime and he does have many pastimes. He’s hail and hearty really. It’s just that it seems to be his favourite
pastime.
Oh, he
reads a lot, Tariq Aziz, Jean Vanier, Albert Schweitzer though not St. Francis, though to give him credit he
does put out birdseed for the birds and he does allow the sparrows to nest in
the eaves of his porch.
He’s put a squirrel baffle on the bird feeder though I ‘m not sure
whether this deters the squirrels or not. They just seem to love his place.
And now he’s landscaping the front of the house because half a tree fell
on the house the day of the ice storm and destroyed the shrubs. He
seems to be enjoying this but it also seems to me
that all of these things come second to his chief interest, which is catching
critters.
Now my dad is a reasonable man. A rational man, not given to excess. But 123 squirrels! I think that
is excess.
Think of those poor squirrels, homeless, roaming the park, uprooted,
exiled desperate to find some kin. Perhaps they’ll adjust to their new world. Make some friends, find relatives, but what does the skunk
do. It’s the skunks I fear for. What does a skunk do in a park? Nobody wants them, probably not even other
critters. Finally they find a home –
whammo - they’ve been made homeless
again. It must be a hard life being a
skunk.
Now the
coons will fare better. There are lots
of coons in the park. Anyhow they’ll
probably just make their way back. Coons are like that.
Now my
theory is that he should feed them all and make friends with them. Put out bread and peanut butter for them at
night, maybe a little fruit
I guess
it’s his battle with the elements. - that is, he went through so much while he was sailing. Yes that’s it. Man’s eternal battle with the elements, to conquer the
elements. The squirrels are elements to
him. Storms at sea, and he must conquer
them.
But I’m
beginning to wonder if the squirrels don’t find their way back. Recidivists. 123 squirrels? Probably
have it all figured out. “Oh, oh
we’re going to the park today,” They probably want to go to the park. Change of scenery. See their families. And
when they’re tired of the park scoot back to dad’s garden. After all they’ve been there probably as
long as he has; they probably consider him the squatter.
You see, I feel sorry for his fauna, his menagerie. Now we have a
beautiful bullfrog at the pond. . But
my father seems to like the bullfrog. A
pair of mallard ducks also comes quite often to sit in the pond. They don’t bother dad. They don’t disturb his pride and joy. Bullfrogs don’t eat bulbs.
But what
if he put out some bread and peanut butter for the critters. Wouldn’t that keep them satisfied? That would attract more? What would St. Francis do? What would the Dalai Lama do?
It’s really a very profound
issue; the ethics of dealing with critters
Well one thing is sure. Daughters do not have much say in these matters. And at least I am happy he is not a
hunter. And yes, the garden has never
looked so incredibly beautiful.
Donna Bamford is a part time free lance journalist, EFL teacher,
struggling creative writer, world traveler, and would be actress.
She resides currently in London, Ontario though she has also lived in
London, England, Paris, Athens and India and has travelled in Turkey,
Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Nepal as well as most of the countries
in Europe. Despite the travel she still calls Toronto home. She has written three
children’s books which she is trying to get published as well as a novella
called My Villa in Tuscany and lots of poetry. Her interests include
anything to do with the arts and travel. She has an Honours BA in English from the University of Toronto and speaks
French fluently as well as passable Italian and German. Her poetry and
essays have been published in a number of online magazines and a few
print magazines such as Qwerty, Bywords, Ascent, Ygdrasil, Great Works,
Scriberazone, 7:24, The Mag, Another Toronto Quarterly, Scrivener’s Pen,
Tryst, and The Globe and Mail.
Email: Donna Bamford
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