First there was this little guy trapped in a window well:
I heard his vain attempts at leaping and fluttering out while picking rocks out of topsoil in the garden one early evening. We put him in a box in the garage with some chicken feed and pear pieces overnight. I intended to take him to Jackson Harbor and let him go the next day. I was watching a friend's little boy and figured the children would get a kick out of watching the baby waterbird released into his wild home (ah, teachable moments). But the baby bird had other plans-he wouldn't leave his box.
Clearly I had made far too cozy of a home for him, or he wasn't ready to be on his own and had adopted me as his new mother. Obviously we had to keep him as a pet, if for no other reason than to see what kind of bird he grew into (despite copious Googling I could not find a match for him. Webbed feet, pointy beak, black and white markings...I'd still love to know what he is if someone out there has more bird identification ability than I).
I spent an entire Max naptime building a more permanent enclosure for the bird. (As anyone who has been following this blog and is aware of Max's dubious sleep habits knows, this is an enormous sacrifice for me. Usually I spend his naps sleeping or reading or some other self-focused activity). I used leftover garden fencing, added a plastic pond, some grass clipping for nest material, more food...it was a baby waterfowl paradise. Less than five minutes after I introduced him to his new home, he squeezed through the fence and took off into the woods, cheeping hysterically.
Asshole.
Speaking of assholes, the very next day, this guy was thrashing around in another of our window wells (which clearly double as animal traps):
Now I'm not scared of snakes. I generally like them. I was quite happy to wait until Max woke up (another teachable moment!), grab my gardening gloves, scoop it out and release it. I reached down into the well and grabbed it around the middle and....it bit me! Good thing I wore gloves. (Initially I wasn't going to as it was only a grass snake. Not poisonous, mellow. Right.)
I reacted by chucking it away from me (Max was safely on the deck the whole time, watching). Instead of retreating into the woods or under the deck like a NORMAL snake, it turned around and struck at me again! I was floored. I'd never seen a grass snake act like that. So I grabbed a big stick and used it to prod the damn thing into the woods. It hissed and coiled and struck and attacked the entire time. All to Max's shrieking chorus of "Bee say! Bee say!" (translation: "big snake! big snake!"). In hindsight, it was likely a mama with a nest and eggs nearby but still...I SAVED you! Those snake babies would be snake orphans if it wasn't for me.
Lessons learned: Wild animals are jerks and check your window wells daily or something is going to smell really bad come July.
