Wildlife Welcome Wagon

In the absence of human contact and communication for my 5 day retreat, the local wildlife stepped up to fill the void. I mean, they really rolled out the welcome wagon. In the first 10 minutes in my private garden a plump, 6-inch long lizard scurried along the wooden fence and stopped 2 feet in front of where I was sitting. She tilted her head to better cock one eye at me, and I held my breath to stare back. After a 5 minute stare-down, apparently determining that I had passed muster to sit in her garden, she went on her way.

Then a whole family of rowdy quail invaded my garden like they owned the place. They are the California State bird, so I guess there is some entitlement. The head quail stood apart and watched over the covey, with her “plume” (that funny squiggly thing on top of her head) waggling her pleasure or displeasure. The babies rushed madly about the garden, tossing small sticks and leaves in the air like women at a 75% off clothing sale.

When the sun made a downward turn towards the sea, the bunnies came out. Little grey bunnies with white tails. They tentatively nibbled grass, noses twitching, ears perking at minute sounds, eyes on the lookout for circling hawks. They occasionally stood up on their back legs to peer at me from 4 more inches of higher ground. But try as I might, none of them would let me scoop them up and give them a big hug and kiss on the nose.

The deer came fashionably late to the garden at dusk. One-by-one they strolled by my fence, peering curiously into my room before heading downhill to graze for the evening.

By this time it was starting to feel like that scene in Cinderella where all the mice and birds run about gleefully singing,
“Cinderelly, Cinderelly,
And we'll make a lovely dress for Cinderelly!”
By day's end I half expected this enchanted place to produce a talking mouse who would start sewing me a ball gown.