Wildlife abounds in Weston and Wellesley, Massachsetts

As a Real Estate Agent, my environment is pretty localized.  Other than occasional forays into the Boston market, or casting my Realtor’s net far afield for clients who want to explore beyond Wellesley and Weston Massachusetts, my days and evenings are spent within the approximately 37 square miles of the two towns.  Depending on the time of day or night that I am driving, walking my dogs, or running, I am very likely to encounter a variety of suburban wildlife. 

What prompted this musing is that the last two Sunday mornings on my commute from my home in Weston to my office in Wellesley, I have been forced to a complete stop as a flock of wild turkeys moseyed around the road in front of  and along side of my car.  Gazing at them from the open windows of the vehicle I had an epiphany - this is a home town safari! 

Six years ago I fulfilled a life long dream and travelled to Africa.  Day after day sighting elephants, lions, and the rest of the myraid of indigenous animal and bird life was as amazing as I had hoped it would be.  However, the experience did not dull my appreciation for the wildness of my own backyard.  I have lived in Wellesley and Weston for 26 years and more than ever before, I am confronting critters as they try to survive in the midst the human population.  

Deer, coyotes, foxes, opossums, turkeys, the elusive fisher cat, owls, hawks, skunks, raccoons, snakes, voles, field mice, rabbits, frogs, toads, turtles and even a moose have all passed through my field of vision and in some cases, have been close enough to reach out and touch.

I am never blase about encountering even the most common wildlife neighbor.  The beautiful soft gaze of a doe or a fawn, and the majestic countenance of a buck always leaves me in awe.  I am thrilled by the shreik of a red-tail hawk  or the mournful song of an owl. My curiosity is sparked by sightings of the various rodents that nest and forage or hunt in the woods surrounding my home.  Eight years ago, my neighbors and I cleared a path from my backyard to the pulic trails that meander through the 80 or so acres of conservation land abutting my property in Weston.  That rustic little path has opened up a secret zoological park on the perimeter of the publically travelled landscape and a window onto the wonders of the daily lives of the woodland inhabitants.

When I first moved to Weston, I was on the second floor of my house watching TV with my Golden Retriever puppy curled up next to me.  I went downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of water and interrupted a family of raccoons that had opened the kitchen screen door and discovered the cabinet where the puppy kibble was stored.  As stunned as I was, I couldn’t help but notice how facile they were as they passed the kernals of chow from papa raccoon to momma raccoon to baby.  When they saw me standing in the kitchen doorway, the adults turned and scrambled out the back door, but the terrified baby took a wrong turn and headed toward the stairs to the basement.  What to do?!  I can’t explain why, but my first reaction to the crisis was to get on the kitchen counter so that I could peer down the stairs to the basement from a safe perch (??).   What I discovered was that instead of going down the stairs, the poor baby was trying to be a flat as possible on the floor between the opened back door and a wall of cabinets.  I grabbed the poker from the living room fireplace tools and gently tapped the baby raccoon to urge him out of his hiding spot.  To my shock he turned, bared his teeth and hissed at me.  I managed to prod him toward the door and out of the house.  I only then realized that my cat had been sitting on the kitchen table watching the whole drama unfold.  Had she interfered with the raccoons’ scavenger hunt, they could have shredded her with their claws, but she was too savvy to put herself in harm’s way.    

Another early encounter with Weston wildlife was the morning an errant moose wandered into town and into the woods behind my house.  The speculation was that he/she got disoriented and headed south from New Hampshire.  Sadly, the last I heard, the moose was hit by a car on Route 30 before disappearing into the somewhat vast conservation area.  Although I searched for days, I never saw any evidence of its whereabouts, so I have always hoped the moose shook off the impact of the car and headed home. 

To recount every instance of a wildlife encounter in one blog is asking too much of any reader, so I will post another report very soon.  If  you would like to share your experiences, or find out about where sightings are likely to occur, please contact me.                                   

Ann Burford, Accredited Buyer Representative, Pinnacle Realtor

Cell: 781.910.1419

Office: 781.237.5000

aburford@PinnacleHouses.com

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