Turn About, Part 2 or Who’s Really In Charge?

As I observed earlier, the proximity of urban living and natural living often provide for some interesting sights.

This is perfectly underscored when I go to tend to my little piece of paradise in the urban garden.

As a side note, I find it somewhat hilarious that my maternal grandparents came up from Mississippi in the great migration so I wouldn’t have to do this for a living.

That makes it deliciously ironic that I do this of my own accord.

Because of this, the urban garden is lovingly referred to as the plantation.

The glaring difference is that I don’t have to worry about an overseer with a bullwhip. I have to worry about ducking golf balls.

I wonder if slave holders seriously pondered the effective use of lobbing golf balls at the free labor pool as a means of physical intimidation.

I think they could have seriously saved money on security costs by simply installing a golf course next to the cotton fields.

Then it would have made the balls difficult to find.

But I digress…

As I tended to my fledging vegetables I noticed that a murder of crows quietly amassed on the new pergola.

They just sat there and seemingly stared at me.

I had already put two and two together and realized that they were just waiting for me to leave as my plot is close to someone who’s growing corn. Those bad boys just wanted to ravage the stalks for anything they could get.

At that time, I also noticed some shady, questionable gents loitering along the path.

You know the type---shiftless looking, poorly dressed in ill fitting attire who only come to a public park for reasons that isn’t entirely recreational.

At least in the “legal” sense.

The thought that popped in my head was “Great, I have two groups of murderers within twenty feet of me. They should get together and start singing ‘If I See An Elephant Fly’ from Dumbo.”

I started giggling. Sometimes I just slay myself with my own rapier like wit.

Luckily for me both groups eventually moved on.

As I was locking up, I heard a rustle by the tree line.

Much to my amazement (but not surprise) a HUGE raccoon came out and crossed in front of me.

I think he was just as befuddled to see me as I was to see him.

Like most of my other neighbors, I know he exists but I hardly expect to see him.

As he lumbered across my path with one eye on his destination and the other on me, I could have sworn he chucked the deuces my way.

Seeing that some of my animal neighbors could at times have rabies, I cut a wide berth around my masked friend.

When he reached a thicket of wild field greens and started to dig, I just looked. I didn’t want him to think I was trying to get anywhere near his territory.

Plus I was pondering how strong the fence was around the urban garden.

As he was searching for food, he looked up as if to say---“Is there something else I can help you with?”

I caught the hint and started walking home.

But the last critter in this hit parade of urban fauna is a cute little bunny I usually pass as I walk home from the train on Dorchester.

Or at least what I thought was one cute little bunny.

That, my friends, is literally a story unto itself.