Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, November 7, 1994 TAG: 9411080010
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A-7 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: MONTY S. LEITCH
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
The ornamental pear in the back yard is still leafy - this time of year its leaves are almost burgundy, so much red swells through the green - but it's about the only one left that's holding on.
It's time to start feeding the birds.
Feeding animals is no exact science here. You put out food, but what comes to eat it? You never know.
I once ran into a friend in the little store at the foot of the hill. He was hauling a 10-pound bag of cat food up to the counter.
"Got to feed my 'possums," he said with a sheepish grin.
Of course, he was intending to feed his cats. But 'possums will eat cat food off your porch as surely as your cats will. Every time he turned on his porch light to check his cats, he saw the proof of that.
So, do you stop feeding your cats? Or take up feeding 'possums?
Nearly every morning, my bird-feeder is licked clean.
Now, my bird-feeder is a 2-foot-square platform mounted on a post next to the woods. A more traditional house-like bird-feeder is (or was) mounted in the corner.
The birds like it this way: Everything's easy to get to. I like it this way: I can see the birds. And apparently something else likes it this way, too: I'm not sure what.
I've seen deer tracks and 'possum tracks. And I've seen actual squirrels - plenty of them - right on the feeder. But I think the real culprit is a raccoon. Because last week, some nocturnal visitor tore apart that little house-shaped feeder, board by board, licked each part of it separately, and cast it onto the ground.
Do I stop feeding the birds, or take up feeding 'coons?
And how much food ought I put out if I'm feeding squirrels, deer, 'possums, 'coons and birds?
But then again, there're some things no critters will eat.
Early in the spring, friends offered us a bag of delicate, young greens, freshly picked from their garden. Slender, tender onions, mustard greens, bok choy, garlic. It was a generous gift, and we accepted.
When we got home, though, I discovered that they'd slipped a big ol' zucchini in the bottom of the bag.
"We didn't say we'd take a zucchini, did we?" I asked the Man of the House.
"I hate zucchini," he answered. Something I already knew.
Now, I realize it's awfully difficult to get rid of all your zucchini. Nobody wants it. (So why does anybody grow it, that's what I'd like to know?) But sneaking one on your friends seems downright low to me.
I threw the zucchini out under the trees where I sometimes throw potato peelings or slightly hairy leftovers. Such delicacies disappear overnight. I don't know what eats them. I don't want to know.
But whatever it is, I can tell you this: It won't eat zucchini. Because the dag-blamed thing is still lying there in the pinestraw, hard as a rock. Not even the tiniest rotted place on it, and it's been over six months! A monumental zucchini.
"The zucchini marks the spot!"
Well, they're not good for food, are they? I reckon they ought to be good for something.
Monty S. Leitch is a Roanoke Times & World-News columnist.
by CNB