Different places to call home.

Earlier this week, I learned there's a squirrel nesting on the roof of a nearby empty house. A squirrel on a sidewalk less than a block from a park isn't unusual; a squirrel running away from the park is worth noticing. It ran along the concrete until it got to a tree, and about halfway up the trunk I saw it had some nesting materials in its mouth. Sticks, dried grass, nothing that could be mistaken for food. It went all the way up the trunk, well past where there'd be room to nest inside the tree, and jumped into the thin, empty branches, running along and over and finally making one last jump from the tree onto a row house that's been on the market for more than a few months at this point. Long enough a squirrel would feel safe nesting somewhere on the roof.

Yesterday, I got to feed a few urban pigeons after a couple of grizzled old-school construction workers were generous with the birdseed they'd brought with them that morning; none of the pigeons flew onto my hands, but a particularity bold one kept grabbing at my fingers, possibly to pull my hand closer so it'd be first in the pecking order.

Today, I saw a raven; it was close enough to see every tail feather, and make out the distinctive spade shape. Also to see how utterly gigantic they are compared to a lot of other birds. It was carrying some kind of food item in its beak, but I couldn't make out what it was, just that it'd been opportunistic and scavenged it from a garbage bin.

You've got to keep your eyes open for these things.