Getting back to winter life in the Valley

Life this winter is settling down to a routine of sorts. Every couple of days I go out to feed the critters; birdseed for our feathered friends, such as the chickadees, and our latest addition to our backyard animal clan, a rare Stellar’s jay (rare this far north).

Apply named Butch, as in Butch Cassidy, he had the suave robbers face under that black crested head. And he has no fear of little old me. Sure enough, he robbed from everybody with style.

Peanuts and large black sunflower seeds are for the squirrels. We have a resident red squirrel named Big Mama who is very demanding. She lives in the woodshed next to the house, a squalid affair with open slats, filled with junk and wood — perfect place for her to take up housekeeping. Sometimes we open it up and marvel at what she has done. Every nut and seed is stuffed into cracks, in between old logs and cast-off cans by type. Even mushrooms get their own place, as a nest of old moss and twigs is crammed between the ceiling and an old shelf. The thing is the size of a football.

We have another squirrel, a very shy one. This one flies in during the night and empties the squirrel feeder of all seeds and peanuts. You guessed it; Rocky the flying squirrel is a fairly regular nighttime visitor to the squirrel feeder. After more than three years of trying, I have only one photo of the little guy to prove it. Slightly larger than Big Mama with thick, tan fur and big round eyes, he or she is a very welcome sight. I have only seen these nocturnal creatures three times in my life before moving up here. Now I have one living with us.

Then there are the rabbits. Well, it was just a rabbit until a couple of days ago. Speedy was joined by a smaller twin. Both are domesticated breeds gone feral, little balls of black fuzz that also share space with Big Mama in the woodshed. We named the new addition Beebee. We had much more until last year when they all disappeared for reasons unknown (about eight or nine). Speedy showed up only three months ago and brought back a lot of entertainment for our two indoor cats.

Now the red poles have returned in growing numbers. They are at the back door right now as I write this. Spanky, my black furball of a cat, is lying in wait, tail and body twitching, waiting to pounce. And he gets blocked every time by the glass door with an audible thump. He isn’t thrilled with that. Rascal is sound asleep in her chair unaware anything is going on.

Going out to get the paper in the morning still has its challenges. Being pitch black this time of year can hide things from view. So after donning my coat, woolen hat and gloves, I grab my-anti moose device. In reality it is a large, black flashlight. After last year’s encounter with a large moose in the dark, I’m taking no chances. My family laughs at the sight of me. Ready for anything, I know not to bean it. That would only make it angry. It’s to see it in the dark so I can avoid it.

I know my neighbor across the street must be laughing every time I go out the door with that beam shinning to the patches of trees to my left and right before advancing to the end of the driveway to pull the newspapers from the tube.

Snow is falling now. With luck it will blanket the place, and a new aspect will arise. Footprints in the fresh snow. It will reveal far more wildlife that is seen, from tiny vole and bird tracks to moose. It reveals the hidden side of life outdoors. I get a kick tracking them in the cold fluff when I take my walks or go about servicing the feeding stations on the property.

Nowhere in all my travels has this much wildlife has graced us. It is one of the many blessings Alaska brings to us all, one of the many reasons why I chose to live up here. And here I will remain.

Wasilla resident Daniel D. Grota retired from the U.S. Army after more than 21 years of service.