Watching the Winter Wildlife

We love watching the winter wildlife. As we hit “publish” on our last post, the madman looked at me and said, “Today feels like a bobcat day.”  Not sure why he would even think that – it’s been a while since we last saw one. But, as I looked out in the garden, lo and behold there sat a Bobcat sunning himself on the warm pavers of the path.

I guess it was a bobcat day. He sat there as if he owned the place – perhaps he does, he is near the top of the food chain, after all. Even the Chickadees made themselves scarce. We watched him for the better part of an hour – being retired does have its benefits. Eventually, he stretched and sauntered off. Not sure when we’ll see him again, but it got us thinking about the animals that are out there and wondering how they are getting through the dark days of winter. After all, they don’t have anyone to make them a nice cup of hot cocoa.

A Window on the Wildlife

But, survive they do. A few years ago, we set up a special table in the music room. The idea was to have a spot near a window that overlooked the garden for occasional special dinners. We quickly learned that the garden was so much more than the flowers that bloomed. Our occasional dinners turned into three meals a day every day. It seems the garden attracts a wide range of species; insects, birds and animals. Yes, we are gardening for the wildlife.

The Elusive Bobcat

From our window seat, we get to watch it all. Like most of our sightings, it was just by chance that we saw the Bobcat (Lynx rufus). After all, it is one of Connecticut’s most elusive creatures. Not only is the bobcat elusive, it quite the wanderer. The bobcat’s territory ranges from 8-20 square miles in size. Each one may travel up to 4 miles a day. Around here they prefer areas with a thick understory, perfect for camouflaging their tawny brown bodies. Although we don’t see them very often, the madman thinks he can tell when one is in the area by the sudden lack of squirrels at the birdfeeder. Actually, we did witness a squirrel being snatched by our feline friend early one morning – the whole snatching was over in a blink of an eye.

Since bobcats don’t hibernate, they need a constant supply of food. As a crepuscular (how’s that for the madman’s new word?) species, they will be most active in the hours around dawn and dusk. Preferred menu items are squirrels and rabbits, but they will eat anything they can catch – from a sick or injured white-tailed deer to Aunt Tillie’s precious little Fifi given the chance. The madman thinks that around here we have enough squirrels to keep a bobcat happy for a long time.

The Pesky Squirrels

Those pesky squirrels seem to always show up at the birdfeeder around breakfast time. Actually, in the winter, they are most active in the morning and in the early evening – no wonder the bobcat prefers them. Gray squirrels (Sciurus carolinensis) have their own survival plan for the winter. In the fall, they increase their body fat by eating anything they can get their paws on. And, what they don’t eat they stash away – they use several different spots in case one is compromised. We have found collections of acorns in the strangest of places.

They also band together in dens with other squirrels to share body heat generated by shivering, much like our friends the chickadees. This survival system isn’t foolproof and in an extremely harsh winter, some may not make it through. So far, this winter has not posed a danger to them so the madman is counting on the bobcats to keep the population under control. This winter we expect the squirrels will continue to visit the birdfeeder. Interestingly, we see them most often during morning hours.

Evening Show

But, evenings aren’t devoid of activity. Thanks to a backyard spotlight, we usually have a show for our evening meal. At first, he saw a quick flash – by the time the madman pointed it out, the flash was gone. He had spotted a critter that he called a field mouse. Actually field mouse is a term used for a variety of small rodents including the deer mouse (Peromyscus maniculatus), white-footed mouse (Peromyscus leucopus) and even the dreaded House Mouse (Mus musculus). Other than a mouse, we weren’t sure what it was – but we had no intention of catching it to tell for sure so we’ll just call it a field mouse and hope that Gail at the Extension Center will excuse this lapse.

This guy belongs to a group of small rodents that do not hibernate in Connecticut’s winters. They spend their time adding to the cache of seeds, nuts and berries stored in their nests. Speaking of nests, these guys are creative in their selection of sites. They use any cavity, from abandoned burrows, to empty tree cavities (yes, these things climb), to sheltered engine blocks of the madman’s power equipment. One late winter we discovered an active nest as we cleaned out the bluebird house in preparation for new tenants. The madman was not happy with mice running up his sleeve and he didn’t even take the time to identify the species.

Being at the bottom of the food chain, these rodents spend a lot of time avoiding predators; hence the quick movements at the birdfeeder. Not so quick is the opossum who comes to the feeder as we finish dinner. Sometimes he comes while the light is still on, but he usually waits until the light is turned off since he prefers dark.

Night-visiting Opossum

Unlike other winter species, this guy is a relative new-comer to Connecticut, first appearing around 1900 and working to adapt to our climate. The opossum (Didelphis virginiana) originated in the tropics so he doesn’t hibernate or stash food, nor does he gather in groups to shiver through the cold nights. He makes dens in burrows, tree cavities and brush piles, but also under sheds and decks. Because the Opossum is not well adapted to cold, a harsh winter wreaks havoc on their populations. If that’s not enough, they are hunted by large owls, bobcats and the ultimate apex predator, the automobile. It’s amazing that these things survive, but they have been on earth since prehistoric times.

The Three Musketeers

We have sighted other animals like fox, raccoons, skunk and coyote, but not with the frequency of the ones we’ve discussed. The Connecticut DEEP has nice fact sheets on all of Connecticut’s large animals – check them out here. Then there’s the white-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus). This year it seems we’ve been adopted by the Three Musketeers – that’s what I call them anyway. The madman is good with that for now, but I’m sure if they’re still here come April he’ll be using some different names – and not ones borrowed from Alexandre Dumas’ novels. Over the years, the madman has cultivated a love/hate relationship with this creature.

Because they were somewhat rare in his childhood, the madman still gets excited when he sees one. And this year it seems, we see them on an almost daily basis. In early January three of them began to show up around dusk at the birdfeeder. With their size and quickness, they fascinate the madman, so what’s to hate?

Browsers, Not Grazers

Their feeding habits. They are browsers, not grazers and they browse a lot, nibbling tender growing shoots and apical buds of trees and shrubs, native, non-native, pepper, non-pepper. Now you should understand. Here in Connecticut a healthy white-tailed deer has very few predators other than an armed human or an automobile so its population is growing rapidly. As farm fields revert back to nature, its habitat is increasing, thus its growing numbers.

Like the rest of the animals we’ve talked about, these deer don’t hibernate. In fall, their bodies produce more fat – an acquired adaptation for winter survival. Their fur becomes thicker and longer to produce more insulation and oils in the skin add a layer of waterproofing which helps in deep snow; something we don’t get around here anymore. But when we do get a storm, the deer will hunker down in a stand of conifers which offer protection from the elements. The stands of conifers are often referred to as deer yards.

We haven’t seen the Three Musketeers for a while thanks to last week’s snow storm. Not sure where they hunkered down and we’re not sure when they’ll be on the move again. The madman is hoping they will join him for hot cocoa.

Guess it’s time to start it.