We also share our moist, green habitat with some thirty species of birds, ranging in size from Blue Heron and Turkey Vulture to Hummingbird and in color from Cardinal to Bluebird to Goldfinch. Our sky is filled with dozens of songs ranging from Chickadee to Wood Thrush to Barred Owl. In the morning, I hear two geese moving into their day and a rooster from a few houses over.

In the mammal department, we have deer, fox, possum, rabbit and dogs across the street. We’ve not seen signs of bear, although will swear we spotted bear scat in the woods outside of Oilseed.

I once observed a fox calmly scratching fleas on the main path through the woods before it noticed me and ambled off. On another day, a Barred Owl swooped down closer and watched me for a minute.  When I took a step forward, it turned and flew back to its original perch. Jason had an encounter with what may have been the same owl a week ago in which they had a dialog, the owl making a clicking sound none of us have ever heard before and both vocalizing the characteristic “You allll”.

The deer get hunted and hit by cars but still number enough to require vegetable gardens be surrounded by seven feet of fence. Sam harvested at least two road kill deer last Fall. One he hit and the other he saw get hit. If (when) the world economy does collapse, the neighbors are prepared to augment their protein intake with venison. Road kill is local food in the same way free food found in dumpsters is.

The road to Pittsboro from Moncure is a vulture smorgasbord, offering every flavor carcass imaginable. We tootle down this road kill buffet an average of ten times a week and have seen everything from deer to chicken. There’s a chicken plant on up the road and sometimes they lose one to the asphalt god.

Until Friday, nothing has been killed on our piece of property by the road; the stretch of grass and asphalt I’m watching Bob mow from the window behind my monitor. Both Bob and I saw the dead squirrel alongside our ditch as we pulled into the driveway after work but we got caught up in potluck preparations and forgot to go out and drag it off.

The next morning, while checking my email I saw a Turkey Vulture swoop down closer than I’d ever seen one and land on that squirrel. “We should drag that off.” I said, hoping the ‘we’ part wouldn’t turn out to be me. “No doubt the vultures will carry it off.” was Bob’s sensible answer.

And then this morning, Garth told us he saw Ickle Bickle dragging a large, grey carcass, alarming him for a moment when he suspected it might be Kome. Which made our day because Bob didn’t have to mow around a pile of squirrel. I’m always amazed at how everything always seems to get taken care of by one of us around here.

So many of the places we frequent offer evidence that man has succeeded in overcoming nature, that even the most preoccupied find themselves cheering when nature rears its head in triumph over the man made world. A few radical souls actually look forward to the day when the current civilization crumbles and nature takes back her turf.

You can safely say you are on the side of nature if the sight of a spectacular sunset reflected in the shards of a broken window causes your heart to beat faster. Or perhaps the word, “justice” popped into your mind when you first heard about the tsunami a few months ago.

You are not alone if you take solace from daydreams about the end of the oil age forcing humans onto another, less destructive path. Ken Avidor is one of those, and he likes to draw pictures of his fantasies. Check out his depiction of the Mall of America after the Oil Crash on his Roadkill Bill site.

At the very least, our wish for nature to prevail causes us to revel in our time spent outside in the sunlight listening to the birds and breathing the sweet air exhaled by the trees.