Unbeknownst to us, we have
wildlife corridors, pathways our wildlife and their ancestors have been using
for hundreds and hundreds of years. These pathways are traditional, they are
intrinsically known by instinct, and all of the wildlife figure out how to
navigate each other, along them.
They existed before our roads, our cars, our houses, our buildings , our pesticides, our ATVs, our hiking, our mountain biking, our bulldozers, our pipelines, our dynamite, our highways, our parking lots, our helicopters, and just about everything else.
Wildlife corridors can be right next to your house, or further away in the neighborhood. Most of the wildlife that live around you don't migrate. Most of them were born right here, and their parents and grandparents and great parents and ancestors were all born here. They are natives. This is their neighborhood and their territory. So, when you see a raccoon, or a bear, it's not like somebody plopped them down in the middle of nowhere. We humans are so unaware of our place on earth, we don't even think about these things.
We humans are so species centric. We have a criteria that skews our estimation in favor of our own preferences, for determining what species has most value.
We even have criteria within our own species to decide which humans are more valuable than others. This is very old behavior, of dominance, of creating hierarchy.
My house is on the foothill of a small mountain range. There is one age-old corridor that runs along my long driveway, between the woods and our rental cottage, and out into the forest, down to the out waters of the river. Wildlife use this very old pathway, despite the fact that we grow grass there beneath the trees, have a mailbox and a rental cottage.
There is another wildlife corridor past our house on the other side, across the conservation field, in which native people lived in till the 1600s .
That wildlife corridor goes through the woods from the river's outwaters, over a stream, up along the edge of the field, across the road, and up the range.
In the state park across the street, some of the hiking paths have been formed from wildlife pathways. This is often the case, and true for the one across the street.
Now that it's fall, around here you will see wildlife leaving their feces in different places, to declare territory. It's an important way of doing things. Human beings have different ways of declaring their dominance, or their value, or their territory. But invariably it involves a lot of appearance, and some behaviors.
I n the last few nights, the coyote pack in this neighborhood, which is been here with its lineage so much longer than we have, has been coming around to all the houses, establishing their territory on all the parameters, making a lot of coyote noise, declaring themselves to any other coyote packs. Just getting things clear, before winter and a time of scarcity begins.
They've been depositing feces , curiously enough, right along the line that delineates our yard and the conservation field. When you look, you'll see that they've been eating corn and many other things, and their natural diet.
When I brought Dante down the road past the end of the conservation field, across the street and up into the wildlife corridor , to go up the range a little bit this morning, there was a new Fox feces right in the entrance to the field. Saying "Here I am."
Down by the farmers fields, beginning in the fall and extending throughout the winter, all kinds of wildlife pause on the dirt road, whether there's many feet of snow or not, they deposit their feces, and move on. This is part of their survival, ensuring that other animals go find other places to take up territory in. To do their hunting or feeding. Have their offspring, live their lives.
I was talking to a couple I know, a few days ago, who've been telling me about their experiences of late with coyote in their yard. They have a Belgian Shepherd, and a very small dog, about as big as a small cat.
They've been having enough experiences, that as I was talking to them, I realized that they live next to a wildlife corridor.
So their presence there, with their dogs, is interpreted as a threat. The coyote repeatedly need to try to assert their territory there.
One day, their Belgian Shepherd ran after a coyote. A few days later, the coyote stood their ground. It's all instinct.
But it helps to understand when it's a wildlife corridor . That it's essential for their survival. So they're going to feel strongly about it, if you build a house there, or wonder what the hell they're making all that noise for.
We humans are so silly. We have all of our choices in our inventions and our hobbies and favorite ways, that radically change the balance of bees and insects and pollinators and ecosystems.
We build things and shoot things and get rid of all the wolves.
We render all different species in all different ways that eventually we are not going to like at all.
Most of all, we make choices with such a limited understanding of the full impact they will have upon our own future.
And yet, we know that humans have been recognizing this and lamenting it for as long as we have recorded history. Some of us more than others.
They existed before our roads, our cars, our houses, our buildings , our pesticides, our ATVs, our hiking, our mountain biking, our bulldozers, our pipelines, our dynamite, our highways, our parking lots, our helicopters, and just about everything else.
Wildlife corridors can be right next to your house, or further away in the neighborhood. Most of the wildlife that live around you don't migrate. Most of them were born right here, and their parents and grandparents and great parents and ancestors were all born here. They are natives. This is their neighborhood and their territory. So, when you see a raccoon, or a bear, it's not like somebody plopped them down in the middle of nowhere. We humans are so unaware of our place on earth, we don't even think about these things.
We humans are so species centric. We have a criteria that skews our estimation in favor of our own preferences, for determining what species has most value.
We even have criteria within our own species to decide which humans are more valuable than others. This is very old behavior, of dominance, of creating hierarchy.
My house is on the foothill of a small mountain range. There is one age-old corridor that runs along my long driveway, between the woods and our rental cottage, and out into the forest, down to the out waters of the river. Wildlife use this very old pathway, despite the fact that we grow grass there beneath the trees, have a mailbox and a rental cottage.
There is another wildlife corridor past our house on the other side, across the conservation field, in which native people lived in till the 1600s .
That wildlife corridor goes through the woods from the river's outwaters, over a stream, up along the edge of the field, across the road, and up the range.
In the state park across the street, some of the hiking paths have been formed from wildlife pathways. This is often the case, and true for the one across the street.
Now that it's fall, around here you will see wildlife leaving their feces in different places, to declare territory. It's an important way of doing things. Human beings have different ways of declaring their dominance, or their value, or their territory. But invariably it involves a lot of appearance, and some behaviors.
I n the last few nights, the coyote pack in this neighborhood, which is been here with its lineage so much longer than we have, has been coming around to all the houses, establishing their territory on all the parameters, making a lot of coyote noise, declaring themselves to any other coyote packs. Just getting things clear, before winter and a time of scarcity begins.
They've been depositing feces , curiously enough, right along the line that delineates our yard and the conservation field. When you look, you'll see that they've been eating corn and many other things, and their natural diet.
When I brought Dante down the road past the end of the conservation field, across the street and up into the wildlife corridor , to go up the range a little bit this morning, there was a new Fox feces right in the entrance to the field. Saying "Here I am."
Down by the farmers fields, beginning in the fall and extending throughout the winter, all kinds of wildlife pause on the dirt road, whether there's many feet of snow or not, they deposit their feces, and move on. This is part of their survival, ensuring that other animals go find other places to take up territory in. To do their hunting or feeding. Have their offspring, live their lives.
I was talking to a couple I know, a few days ago, who've been telling me about their experiences of late with coyote in their yard. They have a Belgian Shepherd, and a very small dog, about as big as a small cat.
They've been having enough experiences, that as I was talking to them, I realized that they live next to a wildlife corridor.
So their presence there, with their dogs, is interpreted as a threat. The coyote repeatedly need to try to assert their territory there.
One day, their Belgian Shepherd ran after a coyote. A few days later, the coyote stood their ground. It's all instinct.
But it helps to understand when it's a wildlife corridor . That it's essential for their survival. So they're going to feel strongly about it, if you build a house there, or wonder what the hell they're making all that noise for.
We humans are so silly. We have all of our choices in our inventions and our hobbies and favorite ways, that radically change the balance of bees and insects and pollinators and ecosystems.
We build things and shoot things and get rid of all the wolves.
We render all different species in all different ways that eventually we are not going to like at all.
Most of all, we make choices with such a limited understanding of the full impact they will have upon our own future.
And yet, we know that humans have been recognizing this and lamenting it for as long as we have recorded history. Some of us more than others.
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