wildlife adventures in University Park

We had no idea when we moved here that we were moving to a haven of sorts for wildlife in this area. The past few weeks have been full of wildlife, in more ways than we could have imagined. We’d heard from our neighbors that coyotes, foxes, and something which might have been a Bobcat had been seen in our town, but I found that a little hard to credit since the area is so densely populated. However, during one of our nightly walks, about a month ago, we were surprised by a Gray Fox running across the road, from one part of the park to another, a mockingbird in close pursuit.

This sighting was the beginning of a string of such events. A couple of weeks ago, we discovered a featherless baby bird on the ground in the park. The nest from which it had fallen was easily identifiable, but there were no signs of parent birds anywhere around, and there was another (dead) baby bird on the ground next to it. I decided to take it home rather than put it back in the nest, and I then spent the next few hours trying to find someone to take it. I eventually succeeded, with Gerda at Wildlife Rescue, Inc., telling us she’d be happy to wait up for us to arrive. The only problem: they’re located about an hour and a half away from DC, and we don’t own a car. Thank you, Flexcar!

By the time we were ready to go, the bird had thankfully realized it was night and gone to sleep, so I didn’t have to keep feeding it (I was feeding it bread soaked in water, which you are not supposed to do, but I didn’t have any dog or cat kibble). On the way up, we didn’t listen to the radio (it could wake up and stress out the bird) or use the air-conditioning (it could cool down and stress out the bird). For all that we were a little bit tense, the directions were easy to follow and the evening was a pleasantly mild one. We arrived to find Gerda waiting for us on the porch. We promptly delivered the bird (identified as a robin) to her, whereupon it woke up and was fed something more suitable: mush. Once the bird was settled, we were given a small tour, and enjoyed seeing the other young birds — wrens, screech owls, a cedar waxwing, and a red-shouldered hawk were the most unusual — and mammals. The little foxes were my favorite, perhaps since I had only recently seen one for the first time, but the baby possums in a pillowcase sack were cute as well.

Before we got back on the road we gave Gerda a hand bottle-feeding the fawns. This consisted mostly of us trying to hold onto the bottles while the baby deer hoovered them and trying not to flail around while the others licked the back of our knees. The experience was something akin to Gonzo eating a rubber tire to the tune of The Flight of the Bumblebee (just replace chewing with little deer licks). On our way back out of the barnyard, I managed to avoid getting head-butted in the rear by the donkey; I will only say that others of our party were not so fortunate. The final treat of the evening was seeing a Red Fox crossing the road on the way back to the highway. Before this month, only other time I’d seen a fox in the wild was over ten years ago, in Europe. We were on the Zürichberg, returning to the tram from the ice skating rink late one night, when the fox walked out onto the middle of the road, stopped and looked at us, and then continued on into the woods. It was snowing that night, and the fox looked silvery; it could have been a silver morph of a red fox, or it could have just been the snow and the light making it appear so.

After that experience, I wasn’t sure how much more wildlife excitement I could handle. Over the intervening two weeks, though, we’ve had two sightings in our yard. One was the gray fox: we heard yowling and came down to turn on the outside lights, and the fox paused by the back door and then ran off to the alley. The second was just a couple of nights ago: I heard rustling at the front of the house, turned on the outside lights, and watched a possum waddle off across the neighbor’s front yard, heading toward the park. I imagine they’re both attracted by the mulberry trees along our side border, as we’ve found fox scat at the side of the house under that tree.

I have to say, having our yard become part of the local fox’s territory has improved (and by that I mean, of course, diminished) the presence of cats in our yard. I can only hope that it’s eating the rats we saw in the autumn and spring, and not preying on our resident birds.

wildlife adventures in University Park

Kushiel’s Justice, by Jacqueline Carey

Kushiel’s Justice, by Jacqueline Carey, is the latest novel in a series that I’ve been reading for a few years now. With each new volume, the books have declined, which is a shame because the first, Kushiel’s Dart is engaging and clever and compellingly well-told. The plot, however, is quite involved, and this element is where the later books decline in quality. Rather than having the roaming and involved adventure plot of the first book set the stage for more sedate and introspective plots in the later books, each subsequent installment sends the characters to even farther reaches of the world on even more preposterous pretexts. Don’t get me wrong: Carey is an excellent writer, with an impressive ability to describe and map cultures and politics. The later books seem at times to be driven more by that ability than by a believable plot, even for a fantasy novel. This has meant that the affection I hold toward the characters determines my willingness to continue reading.

The introduction of Imriel in the third book of the initial trilogy definitely perked up the storyline. The second trilogy, of which Kushiel’s Justice is the second book, shifts to his narrative voice with less success. The character of Phèdre is so vividly drawn in the first book that it is difficult to read a first-person narrative set in that world without hearing her voice. The character of Imriel is also much more constrained by circumstance than Phèdre. As a result, his choices are more traditional, and can usually be summed up by ‘whether to conform or to resist.’ In resistance, Imriel is guilt-ridden; in conformity, he is sullen. Neither of these modes is particularly appealing in an adult. I can’t say that I would recommend the Imriel books alone; it is only because I have become invested in the fate of the main characters over the course of thousands of pages and several years of my own life that I await the next installment, promised for next year. I have hopes that the third book will rely more on political intrigue and less on haring off around the globe, and therefore be more interesting. Which is to say, ‘more like the first three.’

Despite being very invested in this series, I didn’t at all enjoy The Sundering duology, and can’t recommend it. Unless you like really derivative stuff along the lines of Guy Gavriel Kay‘s Fionavar Tapestry trilogy, in which case, go for it!

Kushiel’s Justice, by Jacqueline Carey

Anil’s Ghost, by Michael Ondaatje

I wasn’t aware of it until I read Anil’s Ghost, but I have been waiting years for Michael Ondaatje to write another novel. The book is lovely, one where you are somewhat in thrall to the prose once you begin. It’s been long enough since I read The English Patient that I have only vague — but positive — memories of the narrative shimmering behind a veil protecting the reader from the outside world. I have much clearer — and equally positive — memories of Naveen Andrews in the film, but beyond that, I would be hard pressed to point to specifics that made that novel such a beauty.

To a certain degree, the same is true with Anil’s Ghost, despite having only finished it within the past couple of weeks. It is a wonderful book, one of the best I’ve read. The novel is poignant, both direct and concealing, stark and lush. Ondaatje strikes exactly the balance I most enjoy between politics and personal narrative, with the human stories moving through a place and time of incredibly interesting politics. In this sense it is reminiscent of The Farming of Bones, but I wouldn’t call it historical fiction in the same sense. The character, Anil, is of a place and time, and those are revealed through the telling of her story, unfolding in layered detail as the narrative progresses. In Danticat‘s work, the characters are also of a place and time, but it is the story of that place and that time that is being told through them, and any one of them can and do stand for many more.

Thankfully, I won’t have to wait another ten years to be drawn into Ondaatje’s prose: he has a(nother) new novel out this year, Dividadero. I feel another trip to the library coming on.

Anil’s Ghost, by Michael Ondaatje

alphabetizing for Rapider Than Horsepower

In honor of the possibility that I may be hosting someone I’ve known for over two decades and his band, I alphabetized our CDs.

Yes, we’ve lived in this house for over a year, and yes, they were alphabetized at the previous house. So, no, there’s really no excuse for why they haven’t been alphabetized by now. Ditto with our books, but, you know: it’s not writers who will be sleeping on my floor next week, it’s musicians. Thus, the CDs it was. The tapes under the bench will remain the same mess they’ve been for the past 15 years, however: consider yourselves informed.

I noticed, as I always do when we move and I have to re-alphabetize the CDs the next year, that somehow our rather eclectic collections combine into something almost coherent. I expect that just about anybody in their 30s could come to our house and find something to listen to. For two non-musicians, we like music. While we enjoy a fair chunk of each other’s music, the overlap in what we owned when we combined our collections was four CDs: Pretty Hate Machine, The Downward Spiral, the Machines of Loving Grace debut, and the soundtrack from The Crow. To our household, I contributed the (nearly) collected works of the Beastie Boys, Ani Difranco, Dag Nasty, Carrie Newcomer, The Cure and the rest of the Nine Inch Nails discography. My partner similarly contributed the (nearly) collected works of Skinny Puppy, The Smiths, New Order / Joy Division, and the Thrill Kill Kult. Between the two of us, we fill in the major alternative and punk bands of the 70s and 80s, almost every industrial band around, the major singer-songwriters of the 90s, key hip-hop artists, and well-known samplings from classical, jazz and country music.

Nonetheless, I’m sure it doesn’t hold a candle to the collections of actual musicians. Not to mention that the folks we’ll be seeing next week are still in their 20s, so they’re probably way too hip to want to listen to any of that old stuff. But at least they’ll be able to find it — in alphabetical order — if they do.

alphabetizing for Rapider Than Horsepower

Master Peace Community Garden

One of the projects I’ve become involved with this spring is a new community garden, the Master Peace Community Garden. The garden is a project of the Engaged University garden program at the University of Maryland, and is located at the Center for Educational Partnership in Riverdale Heights. A large part of the space is devoted to a youth garden, with kids from William Wirt Middle School participating in growing and tending the vegetables.

When the project began this spring, the garden space was just lawn, a stretch of grass outside the former elementary school that is now the community center. In March, I and other volunteers worked to clear the grass, lay the plots, put up the fence, and undertake the initial plantings.

Breaking ground in March:

Since March, we community members have received and planted our individual plots and contributed to establishing the youth garden. This week was the first harvest for the youth garden, of produce they’ll be selling at the Riverdale Park Farmers’ Market. The garden looks much different now, green in every direction. The first harvest — of kales, collards, chards, tat soi, and lettuces — hardly made a dent in what’s growing there!

The garden now:

Rows of greens to be harvested:

Chard:

The first harvest:

Our own individual plot is bursting forth with herbs, and I hope to start seeing pepper blooms in a few weeks.

Master Peace Community Garden