Tag: wildlife

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Cades Cove Peace

wonder-filled wildlife

sightings, up close and first-hand

driving through Cades Cove

Everyone who joined in this family gathering in Sevierville, Tennessee had their things they wanted to do – – the Smoky Mountain Nascar Speedway, Anakeesta, family game night, dinner out at a special restaurant, and movie time. Mine was visiting Cades Cove, a nature sanctuary that is part of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, where on any given day you can see bears (most hoped-for sighting), wild boar, river otters, deer, foxes, bobcats, snakes, raccoons, wild turkeys, and all kinds of other birds and small mammals.

I was among the throngs hoping to spot a black bear when we entered the eleven mile one-way driving loop through the park. We were blessed with weather every day on this trip, with clear skies and morning temperatures in the upper 50s and afternoons rising into the upper 70s.

We drove past countless creek beds, where we took time to look extra-close for thirsty wildlife out for a morning drink.

And although we didn’t stop at any of the historic churches or homes in the area, we did make a quick trek through the visitor’s center for a souvenir sweatshirt and time to stretch our legs.

The rustic vibe of the cabins and the outdoor beauty created the perfect mood to set the stage for all of the surprises ahead. First, we saw a murder of crows and tried to say murder as many times as we could. October’s spooky chill and the turning of the leaves cast a charming spell on us as we wound through the park, my window down and Zoom lens ready to snap photos of anything that moved.

I never knew this rule, but being in the car kept us safe from any mama bears that might get protective – – if we were fortunate enough to see one.

Rule of Thumb for viewing wildlife. A hand is held out with a thumb up. a bear is in the distance. Text: when viewing wildlife, hold your arm out straight and, if you can't cover the animal in your line of sight with your thumb, you're too close!

Songbirds sang and perched on limbs overhead, and we spotted a doe in the clearing. I wondered whether I, if I were a doe, would choose this place to raise my family. Surely it has its more elevated risks, or at least I predict that it would.

Next, we noticed cars slowing and barely creeping in the line. Up ahead, there was a rafter of turkeys – about ten or twelve, out in the field to the left of us. They crossed right in front of us as we approached. I said a prayer, “Lord, I loved seeing those turkeys, but if you could arrange a bear crossing right in front of us, I’d like to put in a request. Thank you.” And onward we drove.

Up ahead and around the bend, my daughter saw a rustling in the bushes just feet from her passenger door in the back seat. We slowed down, and there in the thicket was a black bear, ambling along the shrubs. We gave it some space as it stepped out directly in front of the car to cross the road.

If you’ve never seen a bear in the wild, its beauty will leave you spellbound. It’s a sight like no other, and its lumbering walk hints at playfulness and strength all at once. I imagined that if it had seen a rabbit at that very moment, we’d have seen the speed and agility of a breakfasting bear. It was, after all, 10:18 a.m. as it stepped out from the trees onto the paved loop.

We sat back, in awe, as it made its way into the woods on the other side, my camera set to click-click-click its every step of the way.

And then, my daughter announced another was behind it – – a little black bear cub, following its mama. Maybe a yearling – – it was a sight to behold, its ears not quite as perked and its steps much lighter and less lumbering. There it went, right behind her, disappearing into the dense woods. We started to move ahead, hoping to catch sight of them walking along the edge of the forest.

But wait.

There’s more.

Another little cub ran across, trying its best to keep up with the family. It was so cute, and looked to be a bit smaller than the first cub.

We pulled over at the place to stop and watch, and we got caught in the line of traffic approaching to see what we’d witnessed. A wildlife viewing traffic jam happened, but for one moment we had a front row seat to the wonder and excitement of a family of bears.

We watched for a while as the cubs played at the foot of a tall tree, with mama off in the distance pausing just ahead of them in a dip of a hill. They tumbled and tossed like two little kids would roll around in the floor, putting on a show for all who were watching.

And then we drove on, leaving our space for others who wanted to catch a glimpse of them.

We decided to take the loop one more time, jockeying off down Sparks Lane instead of exiting the cove. And while we didn’t see another bear, we did encounter a wild boar off in one of the meadows. A park ranger was stationed there to keep the cars moving in that area of the park. We learned that the boars are fairly common in Cades Cove, but that this was a rare sighting because the boars are generally nocturnal and secretive in nature.

We forged ahead, keeping watch for other wildlife, and I thanked the Good Lord for the front row seat to the bears I got to see. I’m as thankful for that wild hog, the turkeys, the crow and other birds, and the deer as I am the bear and her cubs, but the bears added a special layer of joy and happiness to the adventure. And God knew they would!

We’ll be back again. This is a treasure of a drive, rather like the Yellowstone of Tennessee. It’s an unforgettable excursion, and one I’m glad I could share with family!

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When She Comes Calling

I worry about this one

this sweet little fawn who

used to have a twin

when they

still

had

spots

we’d watched them

from the window

for weeks

clumsily playing

beside mama

just yards

from our front door

near the edge

of the woods

before spotting one

crumpled on the road

near the driveway

near their

dense thicket

and now this one

with her rumpled rump fur

comes calling

alone

so close

to the house

as if she’s trying

to

say

something

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Boo Radley (Boo Badly)

We live in the middle of a forest. These massive pine trees surround our home on all sides and shelter us deep in the woods, basically cut off from any form of civilization. We have to get dressed and venture into society to see other living, breathing human souls. What used to be a fully operating cattle farm has been, little by little over the years, turned from cow pasture to pine tree farm – which is why, when I tell my work friends that I must go home and walk the dogs sometimes at lunch, I am met with blank stares. They don’t understand that when I say I live on the Johnson Funny Farm, this basically translates to the Johnson Wayward Wildlife Jungle.

We never know what we’re going to see, and we can’t take risks that our pack of house Schnoodles won’t go chasing anything that moves. Two of the three must be on leashes at all times.

Except Boo Radley~

his dad gives him a leash pass

(doesn’t see the need)

He saw it last night, for the second time in two weeks.

I’d just gone to bed and gotten settled to try to figure out Wordle at the end of a long day that included a two-hour extension to help with registration at our high school when I heard my husband frantically yelling Boo’s name. I sprang up, careful not to slip down on the wood floors after just putting the magnesium cream on my feet to help me sleep better, making it to the closet to get my slippers. I knew instinctively this would require entry into the thicket.

Sure enough, Boo Radley had taken off and was marking territory at the bottom of a pine tree, where once again he’d treed a coon. This happened for the first time less than two weeks ago, but here we were again, another (or maybe the same) frightened raccoon staring down into the high beam of our flashlight, wondering what kind of dogs we are raising in this house.

He gets proud of himself and tries to sport the Alpha Dog swagger after a thing like this, but it’s all lies. He is not the alpha anymore, and he knows it deep inside. He’s just obnoxious.

Take this morning, for example. I’m generally the first one up, and so I take the boys out around 5:00. They usually go right off the edge of the walkway and do their morning business, and it takes less than two minutes………until Boo decides to go over by the gardenia bush and gets wrapped around the birdbath and pulls it over, completely full, right at my feet. I was grateful it was not the block of ice it was two weeks ago.

Still, I laugh at the comedy of it all. We’ve often wondered why Boo was abandoned, needing rescue in his younger years. He isn’t an easy dog by any means…….but we love him, and if it weren’t for him and his brothers and all the wayward wildlife critters who wander up and want to be a part of life here, we wouldn’t be able to call it the Johnson Funny Farm.

You gotta be a little sideways to end up here.

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Fitz’s Fit Nonet

Fitz spots a Deer – January 12, 2025, 8:22 a.m., 24 degrees

Sunday morning: hell hath unleashed its

fury at the Johnson Funny

Farm, where all silence shattered

with ear-piercing echoes

when a hungry doe

sought breakfast on

the frozen

ground out

front

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Rural Reflections

Warning: Photos of dead bobcat in photos at end of post. Do not read further if this makes you uncomfortable. It saddens me, but country living is full of both delights and horrors, and I take the bad with the good.

At 7:52 a.m. yesterday when I pulled into the parking lot at work, I reflected on my morning.  Already, I’d seen a dead bobcat, two rabbits (one alive that ran in front of my car, and one dead that didn’t make it when it ran out in front of someone else’s), a squirrel, a large buck and small spotted deer. I’d heard the calls of the Downy Woodpecker, Eastern Phoebe, Blue Jay, Carolina Chickadee, Ruby and Golden-Crowned Kinglets, Carolina Wren, Eastern Bluebird, American Robin, Pine Siskin, Chipping Sparrow, Eastern Towhee, Northern Cardinal, and Orange-Crowned Warbler.  I’d walked our three schnoodles and discovered a new scratched-up area in the ground cover along the woods of the driveway, showered, dressed, and had my mushroom coffee and protein shake.  

Ollie checks out a new ground scratching

I’d been in the shower when I heard the phone’s text ding.  I saw it was my husband, so as soon as I was reasonably dry, I read the text:  Please call me before you leave for work.  

He told me he thought he’d seen a dead wildcat on the side of the road where the neighbors with the black Suburban live.  “Take a look when you drive by, and let me know what you think it is.  It might be a bobcat.”  

He knew I wouldn’t be able to wait on fixing my hair, clothes, and makeup.  So off I went in my robe to see this creature whose fate had been determined somewhere between 10:30 Thursday night and 6:00 Friday morning.  

I stopped the car in the road and turned on the flashers, got out with the flashlight, and made pictures.  Sure enough, it was a wildcat.  Its gut organs had been eaten, but the rest of it was still in fairly good condition for something that was hit by a car going the speed limit on Beeks Road.  I didn’t think a car had done this, or at least not the blood and gut part.  

I made some pictures to help me in my research and theories about what happened. Imagine: a half-clad, robed wildlife crime investigator out on a rural road before daybreak, wet hair, no makeup, snapping photos of a dead animal carcass. That was me.

I mourned the life of this cat for a moment, despite the fear its kind evokes in me each time I take my dogs for a walk. Moments like these are powerful reminders of why I believe strongly in keeping my dogs on a leash at all times. People think it strange that I live on a family farm in the country on the backside of nowhere and leash my dogs. This is why: bobcats, foxes, coyotes, owls, red-shouldered hawks as large as the Great Horned Owls, rogue dogs, wild boar, cars, venomous snakes, and hunters. Not to mention those who believe that every dog they see off a leash needs rescuing, posting on social media for three days, and then rehoming (a/k/a dognappers who believe they are fully justified). Ours are chipped, but walking unleashed in our neck of the wilderness simply isn’t worth the risk.

I raced back home to pull my Audubon book out and make a 100 percent positive identification on the bobcat. Check.

Then I began the investigation. “Hey, Google. What are a bobcat’s natural enemies?”

Google rarely lets me down. “The most common enemy of bobcats is man, but they also have other predators, including owls, eagles, coyotes, and foxes, mountain lions, and wolves.”

I looked closely at the photos and observed that this bobcat appeared to be in good shape except for the gaping gut hole that had been devoured by something. I also noted an odor that suggested the bobcat had been dead for longer than a couple of hours, even though it wasn’t there the night before. It seemed odd it was in the road smelling of decay already, and not fresh-since-last-night meat. It was also on the edge of the road where it would have likely been hit a number of times by texting drivers who failed to see it in time and move over a little.

A pack of coyotes would have picked this bobcat clean and torn its limbs apart, so I ruled them out. I have never seen a wolf here, and it’s been years since anyone has seen a wild boar on this property. A fox lingered for a passing thought, but one predator emerged as the prime suspect. We have three active culprits, and they’re nocturnal. The Great Horned Owl.

Most people would shake their heads and dismiss this possibility. No way an owl would kill a bobcat.

Here’s a way: a bobcat is struck by a car and crippled but not killed. It languishes for several days in the brush, and finally succumbs to its pain and lack of food or water, probably realizing that whatever animal stumbles across it will consider it a gourmet meal.

I believe it was the Great Horned Owl who watched to see that the bobcat was alive for a time, and then when it knew this creature was too weak to fight back, but probably still alive, it swooped in for the feast. I believe it dragged it to the road for a better angle and strategically placed the stomach organs on the line in the road where the elevation dips back down so it could get to all the good meat in much the same way we invert the yogurt lid to lick the top, and I believe it ate the stomach organs and the eyes.

I believe all of this because I have seen over the years how the Great Horned Owls prefer organs. They eat the heads of rabbits, taking out the brains and leaving the rest. This carcass destruction made sense to me.

I can’t imagine the sheer shame of the bobcat spirit in bobcat heaven, reading the Georgia Rural Wildlife newpaper obituaries about his tragic end:

Robert W. Cat died Friday, November 10, 2023, killed by a Great Horned Owl with a five-foot wingspan. His friends all believed that he was the fiercest of his kind there in rural Georgia but report they had noticed a slip in his swagger in the days preceding his death. His wife reported she had heard rumors he was out running around on her with his sly catlike ways, and moved on just hours following her husband’s death, noting simply, “I hope he was in life number nine. He was a real animal.”

Disturbing Photos below:

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Sunday Morning on the Johnson Funny Farm

Aside from the usual blasts of neighbors’ target practice gunfire and tannerite explosions just to light up the Pike County Discussion Page at 8:00 on any given Sunday morning, the planes from the local airport flying low and the jets flying high along the flight path above the farm from the Atlanta Airport, and the roosters excited to see the sunrise after the long, dark night, the sweet notes of birdsong from the branches of the Loblolly pines brings peace and serenity.


One of our deer families has learned how to enter and exit the old goat pen, where they feast on breakfast and enjoy a little more security and thus a more relaxed dining experience than they normally have, especially with their little ones.

The white-breasted nuthatches laugh like evil circus clowns with their white-painted faces as they climb up and down the suet trees and keep watch while they eat.

And the hummingbirds engage in full-body air jousting squabbles over the sweet nectar at every feeder.

What I love most about my birdwatching time, despite all the best reasons I’d sometimes love a noise ordinance in our county, is that all deadlines and demands are on hold while I sip my morning coffee, never knowing what I’ll see or hear next.

This is wildlife as I’ve come to know it.

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A Taste of Texas Wildlife in a Canyon

Palo Duro Canyon State Park in Canyon, Texas
A Texas Longhorn

We were driving through Palo Duro Canyon State Park in Canyon, Texas when I spotted him. We’d taken a last-minute cruise through one of the campground loops to see how big the campsites were and whether they had water and electricity hook-ups. I’d just remarked that the awnings over the picnic tables were a blessing of shade out in the brutal heat when I saw something out of the corner of my eye; it looked like a legless bird with a hooked bill, a crested head, and a long tail.

“Stop! Back up a foot or two!” I urged my husband.

There, resting under the picnic table of an occupied campsite, was a Lesser North American Road Runner. At first, I thought it was a Greater North American Road Runner, but now that I’ve compared the notes on the differences, I am convinced that it was the Lesser North American Road Runner. With names like these, I’m wondering whether these birds inspired Dr. Seuss to write The Sneetches.

Lesser North American Road Runner resting under a campsite picnic table

A Road Runner. Not the kind from the cartoon. This one didn’t say Meep! Meep! and take off running from a coyote that left its outline where it crashed into a rock wall. I asked Google what the Road Runner says, and a Big-Bird-sounding Meep! is not part of its call. It sounds more like an impatient robot strumming its metal fingers on the counter at a Dollar General waiting on a cashier.

Apparently, this bird eats almost anything – rodents, snakes, lizards, other birds’ eggs, berries, cactus fruit, rabbits, spiders, and crickets. It can run at speeds up to 20 miles per hour and has an 18- inch wingspan.

I was conducting a bird observation in eBird when I saw this species I’d never seen in real time. I snapped a few photos to add to eBird’s media documentation and we carried on with our drive, but my heart stayed right there under the picnic table with that roadrunner – – until we saw the remains of a Mohave Rattlesnake in the road. My husband spotted it, and sure enough, it had the black and white tail bands, the greenish hue, and the eye stripe and body patterning that I could still make out to get a positive ID on the snake. I’ll leave its photo at the very end so that if you are squeamish of dead snakes, you’ll have had a heads-up.

Speaking of Heads-Up: My sister in law spotted the water snake with its head raised up in the center of the photo – it was checking us out! It’s coming out of the rock just above the waterfall.

We also saw Texas Longhorns, a water snake (observed by my sister-in-law, who despises snakes), a porch full of barn swallows, and several other species of birds, including a pair of Northern Cardinals.

The Bird Blind at Palo Duro Canyon SP – with identification photos and an observation log!

Palo Duro Canyon State Park is well worth the drive for its beauty and its wildlife viewing opportunities. Looking back through the bird observation logs, I noted that a day or so before we were there, someone had observed a wild male hog!

Baby Barn Swallows peeking their heads over the edge of their nest

If you love wildlife and enjoy the beauty of nature, don’t miss Palo Duro Canyon State Park! You really don’t know what you might see out there in the big Texas wilderness!

Mohave Rattlesnake Remains
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June 18 – The Open Write with Jennifer Jowett

Jennifer Jowett of Michigan hosts today’s Open Write at http://www.ethicalela.com and offers us a compelling prompt about the future of our world today. Her prompt is one we dance along the periphery of in so many of our countryside drive discussions, wondering about the future of our county, heartsick over each new development, each new killing of droves of trees that were once home to birds, deer, foxes, squirrels, bees, chipmunks, raccoons, opossums…..it breaks my heart for the wildlife and for the future of our grandchildren.

Fairy Firefly Future

I ride these ribbony roads

rolling hills of rural Georgia

where roosters herald

morning

proclaiming

LIKE BREAKING NEWS

the miracle

of sunrise

meander these mid-day meadows

and forests, treetop-tiered trills

of triumphant birdsong

tapping my fingers on the wheel to the

backbeat bleat of sheep

throaty goaty notes

descant of donkeys

breathe the melodies of

fresh-mown fields and

   hallelujah wildflowers

  in their symphonious seasons

pay homage to these sunset hillsides  

 alive with life’s simple abundance     

harmonizing frogs and crickets

  â€¦â€¦my mind drifts,

    ~I turn a corner: houses under construction! ~

  wondering…..what will become of this place?

          will my great grandchildren

               ever see green fairy fireflies

       twinkling tiny stars

          dipping beneath the

             deep ocean of sky?