He's Ba-ack!

I miss having the windows open while I work, so Mr. Michigander and I decided that if the ventilation pipe were moved, it might deter Tony Peanut from climbing up to the double windows. Then we could put back the screens and once again enjoy the summertime sounds and smells of our wooded backyard.

Last week, the heating and air conditioning men came out and spent most of the day cutting and removing siding, knocking out holes, disassembling, refitting and then reassembling the ventilation pipe roughly three feet away from its original spot--the maximum distance our local building code allows.


Still, the vent pipe no longer provided easy access to the double windows so we happily popped the window screens back into place.

In spite of all the racket, Tony came around once or twice. Much to the workmen's amusement, he sat on the deck railing munching his peanuts and monitoring their progress.

"That should fix his wagon," I told Mr. Michigander, smug in the knowledge that Kamikaze Tony would finally be grounded for good.

I was wrong.

Kamikaze Squirrel

Tony Peanut has left for the day and Kamikaze Tony has taken his place!

While I am busy working at my computer, those peanuts aren't coming out the door fast enough. Kamikaze Tony is not pleased about this. Kamikaze Tony doesn't understand that somebody has to pay for those peanuts. Kamikaze Tony lets me know of his displeasure by taking running leaps at the double windows, which are about five feet above the ground.

All morning long and most of the afternoon, my concentration has been broken by the steady thunk! of squirrel meeting glass (or the plop of squirrel meeting dirt when Kamikaze Tony misses). Note that I have not put the screens back in the windows. No problem. Kamikaze Tony just grabs on to the window frame while he peers in to see what's going on. Gradually, he slides down the slippery frame until he reaches the window ledge. Then Kamikaze Tony leaps to the ground and does it all over again!

Waterspouts Over South Haven!

As far back as I can remember, I have been utterly fascinated by weather phenomenon.

Around lunchtime, we went from clear blue skies to a torrential downpour within minutes. The rain fell so hard and so fast that the lower-lying areas of the yard were instantly flooded. Glancing out the window toward the west, I noticed that the sky looked "weird"-- an ominous gray with tinges of green. Having lived in Florida for a couple of years, I knew that could mean only one thing: Tornadic weather.

Then this severe weather alert popped up on my screen:

AT 112 PM...DOPPLER RADAR INDICATED A LINE OF SHOWERS AND
THUNDERSTORMS CAPABLE OF PRODUCING WATERSPOUTS FROM 7 NM SOUTHWEST
OF THE SAUGATUCK PIERHEADS TO THE SOUTH HAVEN LIGHT...MOVING SOUTH
AT 25 KNOTS.

WATERSPOUTS CAN EASILY OVERTURN BOATS AND CREATE LOCALLY HAZARDOUS
SEAS. SEEK SAFE HARBOR IMMEDIATELY.

Several waterspouts had been spotted along the Lake Michigan shore from Grand Haven to St. Joseph, including a couple that were spotted by South Haven beach goers. One of these waterspouts (pictured above) reportedly came on shore but dissipated after a few minutes. So far, no damage or injuries have been reported.

While these tornadoes over water aren't rare on Lake Michigan, they occur infrequently enough to create a stir of excitement in our community!

Just before the storm struck, Tony Peanut, who had always appeared oblivious to the weather, scrambled for cover beneath the deck and didn't emerge until the storm had passed. Is it possible that squirrels can sense when a tornado is approaching?

Backyard Visitors

Here are just some of the visitors who passed through our yard yesterday:



Shy Guy



A fawn


A new friend


Turkey poults


And Tony Peanut of course!

Puppy Countdown

The population of A House In The Woods will increase by one when we bring this little guy home on August 15th. Here Milo is just 6 1/2 weeks old!

The Sacred Peanut Bowl

This sacred object is more than just a humble plastic bowl I picked up at Walmart ($1.79). With its seemingly exhaustless supply of peanuts, it's the holy grail and siren song that lures squirrels and raccoons to our back door. Even the wild turkeys drop by just to snarf up the piles of discarded shells left behind by the squirrels and raccoons. Behold, the center of our universe here at A House In The Woods!

Just Passing Through

This wild turkey hen and her six poults are regular visitors to our lot, passing through at least several times a day. We've watched Mama Turkey successfully raise these babies since they were the size of paddle balls with legs no bigger than toothpicks. Since May, the poults have grown to more than half of Mama's size, and by early fall, they will be indistinguishable from the adult turkeys.

Early Sunday morning I was awakened by a series of clucks and grunts beneath my window that seemed to go on and on. Dragging myself out of bed, I looked outside to find an agitated Mama Turkey strutting back and forth across the front lawn, scolding and trying to round up her errant poults who were scattered throughout the garden. Like most adolescents, the poults are moving toward independence and at the same time testing their mother's patience. She finally brought them into some semblance of order and off they strutted, Partridge Family-style, into the neighboring yard. I went back to bed.

Mama Turkey has gotten so used to me that she no longer clucks the alarm and shoos her poults to safety if I accidentally run into her in the yard--just as long as I don't get too close.

The Peanut Junkie

I ended up taking out both screens. Tony Peanut was right back in the window this morning and since it was another volunteer day, I wasn't taking any chances.

Before I left, I placed an apple outside the back door. When I returned an hour later, the half-eaten apple was perched on the deck railing with Tony sitting nearby. That apple must have made a satisfying meal, because Tony refused to budge no matter how much I tried coaxing him with a peanut. But an hour later he was back, trying to cash in his rain check on that peanut.

So far, all of my postings have been about Tony Peanut. While he is a constant presence here at A House In The Woods, he's by no means the only denizen of our rural backyard habitat (just don't tell him that). So it's time for a new introduction.

The Dutch name for raccoon is wasbeer, or "wash bear," mainly for their habit of washing food before eating it. The cute guy in the photo above is Beertje (Dutch for "little bear"), who began showing up regularly at our back door last winter, although we think we met him before that. One night last summer, Mr. Michigander and I were having dinner in the backyard when a third uninvited guest had decided to join us underneath the picnic table. That fearless raccoon cub, we think, was Bear.

If it's the same raccoon, then Bear is probably a little over a year old. With his small size and dopey (but endearing) behavior, Bear still looks and acts like a baby and obviously was the runt of the litter.

He's a pretty well-behaved little guy and seems to enjoy hanging out with us in the evenings while we putter about in the yard. Once, while I was building a moss path, Bear trundled alongside me imitating my hand gestures and patting down the dirt around each newly laid section. When Mr. Michigander moved the outer door in the studio, Bear ambled in and out of the construction site, politely sniffing and exploring Mr. Michigander's tools and equipment but not getting into things.

He even tried to help us paint the front door one evening by dipping his paw into the can of paint. The red tracks he left can still be seen on our front porch. When we sat down to take a break, Bear sat behind me and gently combed through my hair with his paws!

Bear's almost complete lack of fear and his trust of Mr. Michigander and I both intrigues and worries me. For the price of a peanut or a few stale marshmallows, he'll be anybody's best friend. I don't know how or why Bear lost his instinctive fear of people at such a young age, and I worry that his fearlessness might get him in trouble someday.

Fortunately, Bear seems content to stay close to our property, dropping by nightly for his peanut fix. Sometimes he stops by in the morning for a "nightcap" before waddling off to bed in a hollowed-out tree on the northern edge of our lot.

A Squirrel With 'Tude

Meet Tony Peanut. Tony is a fox squirrel that I've taught to take peanuts from my hand. He's sort of a character--a squirrel with 'tude, you might say.

Since I first came to know him eight months ago, Tony has become a daily fixture in my life. He arrives every morning by 7:30. If it's a weekday morning, I'm already at work on my computer at the dining room table. Tony sits patiently on the deck railing, where there's a good view of me through the dining room window, and patiently waits until I look up and notice him. Then, on cue, he scampers to the door to await his coveted peanut.

Tony isn't the only squirrel who comes to the door for a handout. But he's the only one who shows up every day, consistently on time. Other squirrels come and go. But Tony is here every day, all day--sometimes until 9 p.m.

It can't be just the peanuts. He buries most of them in the woods beyond our backyard. Sometimes Tony just ignores the proffered peanut, preferring instead to stretch out on the deck railing and watch me through the window for hours.

I often wonder why he spends so much time here. Is it possible that he enjoys my company as much as I enjoy his?