Yesterday, two days after Valentine’s Day, I walked when the weather had warmed. The usual – past the site of the future Magpie Cafe – and lo, the birds had begun nesting behavior – repairing winter damage, preening and posing, chatting, and yes – kissing. 
Call me crazy for asking, but how do they know?
The birds mate for life, don’t migrate, and don’t reproduce until seven years old. There are at least a dozen nests in close proximity to my apartment complex. Each centered in a tree and the nests approximately equal distance from each other. Are they guarding us? Or just their territory? that we happen to be in the center of.
It’s funny. Where I live is called North Ridge (it’s north of Legacy Ridge, where I used to live), and the street is named Park Centre. The land used to be prairie without trees, except for the cottonwoods that line the banks of Big Dry Creek. Where are nests, also.
So my guess is the Magpies were here first, and as the population grew, it expanded. And maybe they’re grateful? for us planting all these trees to accommodate their growth? So maybe … they are looking out for us?
And now
there are new critters moving in. Beavers! How the hell did they get here? 
This is recent, as you can see. At first, when I saw the cut trees (little ones), I thought it might be kids, humans. But no, the above cutting is new. And, it’s the largest tree yet. The beaver lodge is on the far bank. As yet there is no dam.
Just like before
when I lived in the canyon. Makes me feel at home. Maybe the beavers followed me down, hitched a ride in my truck?
What? You’re questioning me now? That (above) is active beaver work in Poudre Canyon. And that’s my cat Ziggy, posing on top of a beaver-felled aspen tree, across a dry (beaver) channel.
A sad, sad, song
Maybe? Depending upon where you stand, or sit. Which side are you on?
Yes, that’s Ani DiFranco. I saw her in Aspen, Colorado (2009) at the Belly Up.
[Thunderpussy? might have to make a road trip?]
A short story, another book
Are you kidding me?
Ziggy
is a story unto herself. Calico cat that she was.
Intertwined with mice, deer, Colorado, Oregon, Poudre Canyon, beavers, fish, crazy humans, coyotes, and survival. Not to mention strange women and men.
The Magpie Cafe
Maybe I’ll have to contact the Trump Organization? See if they’re interested?
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