Living adjacent a great natural resource, where streets run contiguously to a natural forest boundary, has its attractive points and its unattractive ones. For people who never think of venturing into our wooded neighbourhood ravine to enjoy its natural beauty in our four seasons, it must seem overburdened with nuisance value. With rabbits scurrying about in peoples' gardens, eating what has been planted, to squirrels digging up newly-planted spring bulbs, and vying for seeds placed out for the birds. And, to top it off, the squadrons of crows gathering, then descending to the lawns of the neighbourhood, destroying their green smooth presence, digging up great divots of grass roots and soil, seeking the treasures that lie beneath, great disgusting grubs, leaving havoc in their wake.

There was a time when we regularly came across grouse and partridge, tame enough not to mind our presence, giving us the opportunity to witness mating dances, and when foxes were alert to our presence just as we were to theirs, neither they nor we concerned in each other's presence, but most certainly enchanted. That time is long past; no more foxes to be seen, or grouse and partridge, and very few encounters with once-plentiful raccoons.

We did, however, note that the same pair of hawks that has been returning to the ravine after winter departs for the past five or so years, to nest and raise their young, has once again come back. We've seen the Pileated woodpecker, that giant of the species, around, heard its ear-piercing call, noted the great gaping holes it has left in insect-ridden tree trunks.

And we have ample notice that the beavers have been removed, their dam breached, likely by the provincial conservation authority because some people have lodged complaints that too many of the ravine's poplars have been cut down by those busy, enterprising little rodents.