Outdoors: Who had a party last night?

There is something special, and perhaps magical, about a blanket of newly fallen snow. Perhaps it's how it takes the simplest color -- white -- and turns it into a diamond blanket that subtly glistens with hints of every color. Perhaps it is how it applies its touch upon all things … and does so with equal attention. If the conditions allow it to be persistent, it will work itself up into deep layers that soften every sharp edge and further, if authorized, it will spread itself in thick and soft bridges between unrelated objects. Thus, it reminds us of the connectedness of all things in nature. Yet perhaps the most special thing it does, it erases the flaws upon the things it falls upon, and in doing so, it makes my yard look its best. On the morning after a heavy, overnight, snowfall, I truly looked forward to seeing my yard in all of its smooth, white, glory. And when I drew back the curtains the next morning I was in awe … perfectly frightening awe. The kind of awe that makes you say such things as, "What the @#$% happened here last night?" Instead of a thick mantle of virgin snow, my yard resembled the scene from a wild party -- a wild wildlife party! Everything was trampled and things were disheveled. There was little doubt that this unauthorized party was highly attended, and I was determined to find out who was there. The snow came hard and fast and early. I guess just like kids on a snow day, the neighborhood wildlife decided that partying in the new snow was the perfect way to spend a mid-winter evening. They also decided that my backyard was the best place to do it. I guess I should have known that something was up when around midnight the local barred owl pair decided to do a little hooting. Most people know this owl's iconic, "Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you all?" hoot, and from a tree right outside my bedroom window, that's how they started. But then it devolved into what I call "hot footing'" It literally sounds like they are hooting normally, but then someone lights a match and places it under their feet. When the flame meets foot, a monkey-like yelping starts. It's wild and loud, and if you have never heard it before, it sounds perfectly haunting. While such hooting is associated with creating a stronger pair bond, this night it probably came out something like, "Hey everyone, me and the missus are going to par-tay and we're going to do it in Gary's yard! So, stop on by, you all!" Morning found my yard littered with tracks, so many so that finding the actual trails was difficult. I decided that checking the tracks near the birdfeeder was a good place to start. I have a hopper feeder, and it hangs on a tall shepherd's hook ... at least, that was where it was when I went to bed. It was now sitting on the dirty, snowy ground near my back property line. The dirtiness was partially from the feet of the diners, and partially from the discarded seed hulls. The feeder had its top off, and it was, not surprisingly, empty. The tracks around this feeder were dominated by white-tailed deer prints. I have seen up to 12 at a time in my neighborhood this winter, and it appears as though none of them missed the party. There were also raccoon footprints, and I have to assume that they had something to do with the "lifting" of the feeder from its regular location, but I am completely sure that they had everything to do with the litter in my yard. I recognized each piece as something we had tossed in the trash cart in the past few days. Perhaps … just perhaps … they decided to decorate my yard with colorful trash as a means of thanking me for hosting such a blowout party. (Of course, hanging from the outside windowsill was the bungy strap that could have thwarted the "trash pandas." Canine tracks were spread here and there. Without good details in the new snow, they could be from wandering neighborhood dogs. They also could be from red foxes or coyotes, both of which have made appearances in my yard. I found an opossum trail wandering through the yard. Their drunken path makes them easy to spot. I wonder if the bird feeder was empty by the time they made it to the party. I didn't find any skunk tracks, but they were obviously there. I guess they had a small disagreement with one of the other guests. I'll also bet that some of the other guests asked them to take their stinky butts home! As I picked up and refilled the bird feeder, a squirrel and a couple of chickadees approached me at close range. I looked at them and they looked at me. For some reason, I initially assumed that they wondered what had happened. However, my thoughts quickly shifted to me telling them, "No! You guys cannot have a daytime party!" But actually, and without saying anything, I realized that they just wanted me to refill the feeder. Most of the above is a collection of several separate incidents mashed into one. It was inspired by the massive number of tracks that graced my snowy yard a few mornings back ... so many so that it really frightened me. But it also reminded me that a lot happens in our yards each night. Perhaps not a party, but collection of events that show just how active wildlife is at night, even in suburbia, and how, despite any paperwork to the contrary, my yard is completely their yard, too!