When it comes to animals, I have a deeply felt “all God’s creatures,” live-and-let-live mindset. Even for scary and wild animals. Even mice. Even most insects . . . with the notable exception of mosquitos. Since I was a young kid, I have just felt a natural kinship of sorts with all creatures, great and small. So whenever I can, my natural instinct is to try to help, rescue or preserve pretty much any and all living things that I come across.
So it’s probably a good thing that I have lived most of my life in suburbia, where my interactions with wild animals have been relatively few and far between. At least until recently, when semi-close encounters with local wildlife have become a bit more frequent. A skunk here, a deer or two there, even a few coyote sightings, one of which actually followed us for a block or two until we were able to shoo it off.
I worry . . . not for myself or my safety. I worry about the animals who are having their habitat continually usurped and whose lives are disrupted and frequently at risk as a result…