Offer critters shelter and they will come

When we bought our three-hectare ranch (approximately seven-and-a-half acres) about 13 years ago, the land had been ravaged by nature and man, the victim of decades of erosion and overgrazing.

We decided to let two-thirds of the land lie fallow, a gesture that in current eco-speak in Britain is called “rewilding”— to set aside large chunks of an estate’s acreage and let it revert to whatever nature thinks it’s best.

Our decision was neither as grand nor completely eco-virtuous. Truth is that we couldn’t begin to clear two hectares let alone keep it mowed, plus we also wanted to create a security and privacy buffer around the house.

Our modest rewilding, though, has taken off beyond expectations and now we have two hectares so densely populated by wild vegetation, bramble and critters of all kinds that it’s become a mini sanctuary that continually surprises and pleases us.

Last week Félix spotted our latest visitor, a Mexican gray fox standing on its hind legs, stretching to take a drink in one of the bird baths. Since then we’ve put a water bowl at the base of the bird bath, but the elusive visitor hasn’t returned.

Though not endangered, these foxes are not a common sight. Stew and I had seen one near the Atotonilco church, shortly after we’d moved to San Miguel, and we still remember an animal about a half larger than a domestic cat, sporting a luxuriant grayish tail.

Before the most recent fox encounter, we’d spotted possums, rabbits, mice and snakes plus dozens of different species of birds—my favorite being roadrunners (beep-beep your ass!), vermillion flycatchers and orioles— that come daily to the feeders outside the bedroom and the kitchen.

And judging from a smell I noticed last night, a skunk may have taken up residence here too.

Indeed, it’s become a routine and joyful moment of grace to have a cup of coffee on the terrace early in the morning and witness a color and sound show that is increasing daily in volume and numbers, as some of the visitors have started to nest in the trees close to the house.

Encounters between our three dogs and two cats and the wild visitors that venture out from the surrounding bramble are not always peaceful. Our ginger cat Fred, despite being neutered and normally somnolent in appearance, has turned into a stubborn hunter that brings “trophies,” sometimes live, others not quite. Last week he showed up with a tiny rabbit we pried away from him and tried to revive. Sadly, the bunny didn’t survive the night.

The good news is that Fred seems to be settling down and gradually trading napping for hunting. Must be feline middle age or sheer laziness.

A couple of years ago, our large dog Lucy showed up with a swollen snout that made her look as if she had two golf balls stuck in each side of her mouth. It turned out she’d been bitten by a rattlesnake. Gladys, another dog, was nipped by a brown recluse spider, a nasty customer that almost killed her. Vets here don’t carry any anti-venom shots, so we were lucky these two dogs survived on their own.

On Thursday, Félix brought with him a surprise addition, a small chicken Stew named Henrietta and which I didn’t expect to get along or survive an encounter with our domestic fauna. The chicken belonged to Félix’s mother, who’d grown tired of it picking and pecking through her flower beds.

Initially, Félix placed her in a large dog crate with some seed and water. On the second day, he tied a piece of string four or five feet long and a small piece of wood to one of the chicken’s legs, so it could wander but not too far.

On the third day, Henrietta was cut loose, oblivious to any danger from the dogs or cats which ignored her anyway. The dogs and cats ogle at her with some curiosity but no apparent ill will.

Though he won’t admit it, Henrietta’s unexpected arrival has kindled Stew’s secret fantasies of a coop for a steady supply of decent-size eggs. He’s dreaming “jumbo” eggs rather than the smallish eggs sold in Mexican grocery stores.

For that, we’d need to consult with our good friend Carol who has a large and fully equipped ranch near us with stables and horses, plus a Waldorf Astoria-level chicken coop that another friend built for her.

For now, Henrietta is confidently wandering in and out of the weeds, pecking and digging holes, stopping by periodically for a drink of clean water in a bowl we leave for her. Félix assures me she is probably laying eggs somewhere.

But where?