Sure, many times. In college, I carried raw, unshelled peanuts in my coat pocket, and gave them to squirrels. I made friends with one outside my dorm, and he’d sit on my shoulder and eat my peanuts.
Today, we have two four foot tall Sandhill Cranes that fly in every evening about 7:30, and sleep on the bank of the pond across the street. I have often walked up and talked to them, and they don’t view me as a threat at all, mostly because I’ve never tried to touch them. I just stand there and talk to them. They leave every morning about 7:30 am, and spend their day somewhere else. They’re names are George and Martha.
Every spring, they disappear for a couple of months, because they must lay their eggs in their daytime spot. They laid one egg across the street, and it disappeared, probably a coyote. It was a very sad day, and George waited until I was there talking to him, before he let out a loud plaintive wail of grief. I felt so bad for my friends. Now they only lay eggs in their daytime nest, wherever that is.
So when they had their first pair of babies, and they could actually fly, they brought them to their normal sleeping spot by our house. I looked out in the driveway one day, and there they all were, at the end of my driveway, with George halfway up the driveway, waiting for me. He’d never come up my driveway before, he was clearly waiting for me. I came out, saw his family, and gushed over them: “George! Good to see you! Are these your babies? They’re BEAUTIFUL!”
I walked down toward Martha and the babies, who got a bit nervous about this human stranger, but George calmly walked alongside of me, and I stood among them, talking calmly to them, and letting them know I wasn’t a threat, reinforced by George’s confidence.
George and Martha still show up every night, and most nights I say Hello to them.
Sure, many times. In college, I carried raw, unshelled peanuts in my coat pocket, and gave them to squirrels. I made friends with one outside my dorm, and he’d sit on my shoulder and eat my peanuts.
Today, we have two four foot tall Sandhill Cranes that fly in every evening about 7:30, and sleep on the bank of the pond across the street. I have often walked up and talked to them, and they don’t view me as a threat at all, mostly because I’ve never tried to touch them. I just stand there and talk to them. They leave every morning about 7:30 am, and spend their day somewhere else. They’re names are George and Martha.
Every spring, they disappear for a couple of months, because they must lay their eggs in their daytime spot. They laid one egg across the street, and it disappeared, probably a coyote. It was a very sad day, and George waited until I was there talking to him, before he let out a loud plaintive wail of grief. I felt so bad for my friends. Now they only lay eggs in their daytime nest, wherever that is.
So when they had their first pair of babies, and they could actually fly, they brought them to their normal sleeping spot by our house. I looked out in the driveway one day, and there they all were, at the end of my driveway, with George halfway up the driveway, waiting for me. He’d never come up my driveway before, he was clearly waiting for me. I came out, saw his family, and gushed over them: “George! Good to see you! Are these your babies? They’re BEAUTIFUL!”
I walked down toward Martha and the babies, who got a bit nervous about this human stranger, but George calmly walked alongside of me, and I stood among them, talking calmly to them, and letting them know I wasn’t a threat, reinforced by George’s confidence.
George and Martha still show up every night, and most nights I say Hello to them.