I'm not Francesco from Umbria I tell the red-headed finch which dogs my footsteps as I work in the patio. Fully feathered, it's not a fledgling fallen from a nest, flew perfectly from a high branch to the ground, and obviously is not wounded or in need of aid. But it persists in staying close to heel, sometimes blocking my path, looking up for some kind of communion. Can't help you, little fellow, I'm not gifted at interpreting the wants or needs of undomesticated fauna. Minutes pass before its questioning eyes recognize that fact and it flies off.
The finch is merely the latest encounter with wild neighbors which have elected -- or been forced to -- establish residence on Santa Fe's Camino Canon. I well remember the days before our once-dirt thoroughfare became the city's "art and soul," Canyon Road -- when the animals one saw on a daily basis were generally restricted to roaming "outside, watchdogs" and stray felines. You occasionally heard a burro bray or a cock crow, and one of my friends kept geese which raised an alarm whenever anyone set foot on her property.
Ancient history. Before the family residences were sold and became galleries, and fields cleared to make room for condominiums. Perhaps the earliest influx of critters I saw were the raccoons. Once their own territories had been invaded, they found refuge in one of the few remaining open lots on the road, an expansive field and garden behind our small enclosed patio. The raccoons discovered we had a few vines trained to grow tall over an arbor and shade a terrace. The vines produced delicious Concord and Niagara grapes, and for many years had never attracted birds, much less raccoons. But now families of the masked critters come on autumn nights, and the fruit is quickly gone. During the night, I hear the raccoons scudding across the house roof enroute to the arbor, and at dawn have seen Momma leading as many as six well-rounded, satiated toddlers down our driveway back to their lair.
Now it's rabbits. For the past three years, after more than half a century in this residence with no evidence of any, the bunnies explore the patio, nap under our car in the driveway, often peer into the dining-room window when we're at table. And like that red-headed finch, sometimes mistake me for the man from Assisi, loitering inches from my toes, looking up with beseeching eyes. I've seen them gallery hopping, too -- aping the Santa Feans and tourists who clog the Road on Friday nights for art openings. One early evening recently, I watched a very young bobtail brave traffic to cross the street repeatedly, one gallery to another, checking out the plantings. New hollyhock leaves seemed to be his tidbit of choice.
In late spring, I twice saw two small black snakes in the patio gardens. Not to worry, just harmless creatures good for the soil. A day later, a young man told my wife he'd seen a snake in the driveway, and he obviously didn't consider it small or harmless. Then a neighbor feared a snake she saw in her patio was a rattler, and phoned Animal Control. It proved to be a bull-snake, three-feet plus in length with markings similar to a rattler's. Then another small black snake was spotted sunning off my front terrace, and an observant sculptor told me that one could well be no garden variety but a young bull-snake. Maybe they're nesting around here somewhere, he suggested. Snakes on Canyon Road! Certainly we'd always had sharks here, the human variety, with quite a few ending up in court for various shady dealings in the art world. My friend the sculptor advises that if more large bull-snakes show up, we're not to phone Animal Control, but let him know. He has many friends who live in the country, keep horses, and their fields and barns are overrun with mice. Bull-snakes eat mice.
A city-boy until well into adulthood, I was a slow learner regarding all creatures not native to the Concrete Jungle. But decades on Camino Canon fostered the assumption that I knew a thing or two about native flora and fauna. Explosive growth of our town, crowding out old habitats of animals that once lived nearby but not with us has me reappraising extended family in future years here.
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