Mystery Solved... Maybe?

Two years ago we decided to install a fountain in the back yard, partly for our enjoyment and partly to provide a reliable water source for the birds that visit our shrubbery and bird feeders.  We had had a birdbath in the garden for some years, but we called it our "bird repelling fountain" because birds seemed reluctant to have anything to do with it.

We finally realized that the basin was too deep to interest the birds, even if we put rocks in the bottom of the basin, although in this picture clearly somebody, probably a largish canine somebody of the coyote variety, was interested in the water and knocked it over.  Since there was no pump, the water in it did not move and we had no desire to breed mosquitoes.

Old Birdbath--Somebody Wanted the Water

So we decided to put in a tower fountain with a pump so the water would circulate through it.  We found one we liked that had several levels so that the water bubbles up through the levels to the top level and then trickles down the sides to the basin at the base of the tower.  The guys who installed it had told us we could add some rocks to control the amount of bubbling from the top.

Tower Fountain, Complete With Birds

Things work reasonable well most of the time and the birds seem to love it, but last summer and again this year for the last couple of weeks, large quantities of water have vanished from the fountain overnight, almost every night.  We were baffled as to why so much water was disappearing.  Evaporation?  A pack of thirsty coyotes?  Raccoon bacchanalia?   Communal crow bathing?   Possibly a two-legged critter coming up through the canyon in search of water?  That last thought was a little unsettling.

Evaporation seemed unlikely since the water levels didn't change much during the hottest part of the summer days.  The water level would go down a little during the heat of hot summer days, but most of it seemed to go at night.  We knew that coyotes visit the garden from time to time--we've found piles of poop and other evidence of their presence, but it seemed unlikely that they would be here every night.

We were so curious that Cindy gave me a trail camera for Christmas.  The camera has a motion sensor and infrared capability, so I set it up in hopes of finding the solution to the mystery, but.... nada, nothing, no varmints.  A few curious birds seemed interested in the new shiny thing, and a few California Ground Squirrels visited the fountain for water, but nothing else.  We knew that the infrared feature worked, because we used the camera to film a curious neighbor cat who was coming to the door to taunt our cats, but the camera picked up nothing in the back yard at night.

We had noticed that there were often large splashes of water outside the bottom basin that didn't seem to be accounted for by bird activity, so Cindy decided to unplug the fountain, let the water settle down and then plug it back in the other morning.  The result was a geyser that shot up into the air, splashing large quantities of water out over the side.

So now it looks like either there is something about the fountain as it is presently configured that makes the water shoot up like that.  We'll just have to figure out whether it's calcium deposits that have built up, or the way the rocks are arranged, or what it is that's causing this.

My favorite theory was the Raccoon bacchanalia, but that's not what the evidence showed.  It's something of a letdown--maybe, as Pogo says, "we have met the enemy and it is us."

   

Somebody's Thirsty

We woke up the other morning to find that our birdbath in the back yard had been tipped over again.

It's a metal birdbath, about three feet tall; it's not the heaviest thing in the world, but it does take some effort to turn it over.  To my mind, that means it would take a fairly sizable critter to turn it over.  I don't think the skunks or opossums that frequent the neighborhood could have done it.  The Gray Fox or a large raccoon might have been tall enough to do it, but I'm thinking it was probably a Coyote.

The last time the birdbath was tipped over, Cindy saw a Coyote running down the edge of our canyon a few days later.  They seem to have discovered that our bird feeder attracts birds and Ground Squirrels and it looks like they may also have decided it's a good place to get a drink, too.  

Not A Bear

So the mystery varmint that tipped over the birdbath the other night probably wasn't a bear after all.

Cindy was out in the garden yesterday morning checking her irrigation lines by the garage, when she heard a huge commotion in the shrubbery and a squeal, and all the birds flew off.

Thinking that part of our hill had slid down into the canyon, she naturally rushed to the edge of it to see what had happened, perhaps not the smartest move; if it had actually slipped, she would have been at the bottom of the canyon.  Fortunately for her, that wasn't the case.

Instead, she saw a large animal running down the side of the canyon with something hanging out of its mouth.  She thought at first it was a very large dog, then that it might be a wolf.  Although I didn't see it, I'm betting it was a coyote (Canis latrans), not a wolf.  According to the California Wolf Center, there is only one wild wolf in California, a male called OR-7 that crossed into northern California from a pack that had become established in Oregon.

Coyotes, however, are definitely present in the area; in fact, we've seen them in our yard before, including one that once peered in our front window, checking out all the plump, lazy cats in our house.  And that's why they're all indoor cats, whether they like it or not.

Coyotes are intelligent animals and quickly learn where the best sources of prey can be found, and our bird feeder certainly qualifies.  We thought at first that the coyote might have bagged Big Mama ground squirrel, but we saw her stuffing herself as usual under the bird feeder this morning.  She looked a bit jumpy, though, so she must know there's a large predator around.

All of this just goes to reinforce the feeling of our neighbor from across the street, who told us, "your side of the street--wilderness; my side--civilization.