Who Invited the Wildlife? 🦌

I live in the city. I feel like that is an important detail to establish because lately I have started questioning whether my address was accidentally entered into the system as “middle of nowhere.” I am not talking about seeing a squirrel. Squirrels are basically the interns of the animal kingdom. They are everywhere, and nobody is particularly surprised to see one. I’m talking about deer, raccoons, and possums. Actual wildlife. In my yard. Like they pay property taxes.

There is something particularly unsettling about looking out your window and finding a deer standing there. Deer are not small. A squirrel can run across your yard and you think, “Oh, look. A squirrel.” A deer appears and your brain immediately goes, “WHY IS THERE A HORSE IN MY YARD?” And the deer doesn't even look concerned. Nope. It just stands there eating whatever it has decided belongs to it. Meanwhile, I’m standing inside my house looking through the window like I’m observing a dangerous criminal. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t move too quickly. Maybe it won’t notice me. The deer, meanwhile, is probably thinking, “Nice place. I’ll have the hostas.”

Then there are raccoons. Raccoons have absolutely no respect for private property. They have little hands, little masks, and the confidence of someone who knows they are never going to get arrested. You can put your garbage out at night and wake up the next morning to discover that a raccoon has apparently conducted a full forensic investigation of your trash. Nothing is left untouched. It’s like somebody came into your kitchen, opened every cabinet, looked through the refrigerator, rejected the leftovers, and then left without closing anything.

And possums? Possums are different. Possums look like they have been personally inconvenienced by the existence of oxygen. You see one waddling through the yard and it looks like it’s on its way to complain to management. They don’t run. They don’t scamper. They just slowly shuffle along like, “Well, I suppose I’ll go see what nonsense everyone is up to tonight.”

The funny thing is, these animals are technically the wildlife. I’m the human. This is my house. I have a mortgage. I mow the lawn. I pay for the electricity. I even have to pay somebody when something breaks. And yet, when I see a raccoon walking through my yard, I’m the one who freezes. Apparently, the proper response to encountering a wild animal on your own property is to stand perfectly still and hope it doesn’t notice you. So much for being at the top of the food chain.

I have three Chihuahuas, which makes the whole situation even more ridiculous. Between the three of them, they would probably weigh less than the average deer has in one leg, yet somehow they believe they are the security department. A deer could walk into the yard and my dogs would immediately decide, “WE HAVE DISCOVERED A HORSE. THIS IS AN EMERGENCY.” Meanwhile, the deer would probably just look at them like, “Are you finished?”

At what point does “living in the city” become “living in the city but sharing it with every creature within a five-mile radius”? Because I’m starting to think we’re not really neighbors anymore. We’re all just roommates. The deer have the yard. The raccoons have the garbage. The possums have the nighttime shift. The squirrels have apparently claimed every tree. And I have the mortgage.

Honestly, I’m beginning to think I got the worst end of this arrangement. Maybe I should put a sign in the yard that says, “WILDLIFE WELCOME. HUMANS TOLERATED.” Because clearly, that’s how this neighborhood works.