The Muskrat Skinner's Wife

Innocent, wild creatures looking for a place to give birth and raise their young have needs much like yours.

They need a home, too. We’re running out of space, and we’re on a collision course with wildlife.

But some are working to tackle it head-on. Through a two-year effort, the all-volunteer Lake Norman Wildlife Conservationists earned Lake Norman National Community Wildlife Habitat Certification.

We are one of only three certified community habitats in the state and 55 so far in the nation, according to the National Wildlife Federation. In fact, our lake is the largest certified community surrounding a body of fresh water.

The idea is that we can enhance natural resources and restore habitat. A tall order, based on the theory that wildlife and humans can flourish side by side.

It sounds good in theory, but gets complicated in practice.

Consider the muskrat. Most lake dwellers don’t want them anywhere near their property. Frank complains that muskrats ate his pier.

Well, Frank, your furry friend preferred the old style white Styrofoam flotation to your new baby blue, but since you’re not offering alternatives, the muskrat will take what he can get. (P.S. Frank has a gun and knows how to use it.)

Bob doesn’t like woodpeckers. Sure, some of them are endangered, but they make quite a racket while chewing up the side of his house, and Bob needs his sleep.

So he grabs his gun and, in the proud tradition of Davy Crockett, hunkers down in his Mercedes. He closes the car windows against the morning chill until there is just enough space for his barrel to peak out.

Sitting in the dark early on a February morning, Bob was on a noble mission to bring peace and quiet to his home.

KA-BOOM! No more wood pecker. And Bob? Bob was deaf for three days.

Then there is the six-foot black snake. They eat mice and other goodies and are quite fond of their rent-free arrangement in and around your home.

They don’t know they’re not always welcome to come inside.

The black snake crawled into the ceiling space above my husband’s desk, waited until he was on the phone and then stuck his head out to look around.

Now my husband’s professed a love of black snakes, but it’s hard to ignore one slithering and flicking its tongue in the general direction of your eyeballs.

Think of the snake, who’s trying to make sense of this strange environment – not to mention a guy who is now leapfrogging over his desk on this way to heaven-knows-where.

Contrast these pesky creatures with the uplifting sight of the majestic great blue heron – a graceful bird with a cruising speed of 19 to 29 miles per hour and a vast wingspan.

Tall, regal and almost always alone, he waits stoically for something tasty to happen by. Then, with a quick dart of the neck, he spears it. Yum. A suitable breakfast as heron breakfasts go.

Now that’s the way we like our wild life – beautiful, out there somewhere, minding their own business.

If we’re going to share the planet, shouldn’t we include a trio of playful otters on an East Lincoln farm pond along with the coyotes crooning off in the distance? They’re coming closer, though, and the chickens, dogs and cats in the neighborhood might not be safe.

Just how far should we go when it comes to intervening in the cycle of life? Should we choose sides? Do we sacrifice a chipmunk speared by the great blue heron before our eyes? Who would you choose?

Certification as a wildlife habitat is a good way to start, but it’s not the end of conservation, or the decisions that come along with it. We hope that in the end we prove to be worthy of the challenges ahead.