So there's simply too much to say about the last couple of years to really cover everything. So consider this a continuation not a recap. We'll all catch up I'm sure.
During the last four or five months, I have issues with time right now. And words, that's another story. But during this time, I've discovered an even deeper connection with the animals outside my home.
When the hubs (George) and I bought this house last year (almost to the day actually) It was new construction in a newer "neighborhood" of our very large development here in NE Florida. (GAY GAY GAY GAY GAY!!! Fuck you DeSantis).Since I've gone on LOA, I've been taking almost daily morning walks with my Moms (yes you will learn, Mom1 is my birth mom, Mom2 is my step-mother, Dad is well Dad, and they all live together in the house around the way that we originally moved into. I didn't get far and my family is weird). We take a walk halfway around their neighborhood's "lake" (retention pond) and keep track of the wildlife. I've taken hundreds of photos of the birds (and alligator) we see.
I created a little garden next to one of the contractor installed trees (a cyprus) in my backyard, mounted a bluebird house, and have spent more money than sense on bird food of all kinds.
Also a pair of mute swans appeared on my retention pond in my little neighborhood. If you haven't seen mute swans in the wild, it's intense. They are HUGE and make Canada Geese look slight and delicate. These swans literally just appeared one day. And I fell in love.
I have experience with wildlife from when I was a veterinary nurse assistant before V (the Wildflower Child) was born. I even learned how to hold fractious birds on a Canada Goose. Big birds down scare me. Though asshole parrots come close. (I'm looking at you Diabetic Diego who I still haven't forgotten that you bit a hole through my scrubs while laughing you dick.)
As no one in the neighborhood had intruded the swans, I decided they needed a caretaker. I know swans can legit fuck you up, so I worked carefully to earn their trust. Using waterfowl food, and patience. Then I saw that the one I had named Penelope (they are Penelope and Cornelius), had a fishhook through the left upper part of her bill.
Well that wasn't good. So I worked harder to get her to eat from my hand so I could grab her and get the hook out. Which I did. Which was stupid and unplanned and impulsive. And worked.
That was in January 2022.
Over the last several months, I have spent hundreds of hours not only spending time with these creatures, but researching their needs, habits, physiology, and psychology. They helped bring me out of a suicidal darkness that was threatening my life.
I became the "Swan Lady" of our neighborhood. Educating the residents about appropriate treats and caution being around them. It was going amazingly well. They swans came when I called them. Both would come right to me and eat from my hands. Penelope forgave the indignity of having her bill grabbed by a hairless ape. And we all lived happily ever after. Oh, right, no...
Over the last week, they have roamed further and further from our pond. Separately. They turned out to be two females, and I believe they've gone off to find nesting spots. Which of course will result in non-viable eggs. My only hope at this point is to learn where they settle and be able to get them off their nests when the eggs don't hatch. Swans have been known to starve on their nest if the eggs don't hatch.
Thank heavens for mood stabilizers, because while I am sad, very sad, I am not a total mess, and I am forever grateful they spent the time they did with me. And that I have hundreds of photos.
Penelope and Cornelius. I will love you forever. Don't forget me.
I'm Kirsten. Some things you could label me with; tattooed, geek, mama, animal lover, weirdo, nerd, writer, movie and TV addict, lazy, ambitious, insomniac, feminist, LGBTQ+.