By Staff
I've always been fascinated by the half of nature which we are not a part of – the world of nighttime.
I spend more of my evening peering out the patio doors toward the creek running through the yard than watching TV. However, until recently it was a lucky night when something ventured close enough to the house to be seen in the dim glow of our wimpy, single bulb yard light. That just wouldn't do.
After considerable searching, I found just what I was looking for, the Super Duper-All Time-Mega-Light Up Your World yard light. This bad boy had two monstrous bulbs fit for airport runway duty. Surely the power companies designed this baby, for just running a handful of them would keep their profits in the black but I didn't care.
I was bent on lighting up my world. My concern was what would the animals think about the midnight sun? Would it mess up their vision or make them feel exposed and keep them away? Would they eventually get used to it? Or would it perhaps even draw them in, either from curiosity or better vision for scrounging chow? However it worked out I figured the animals reactions of turning night into day would be fairly dramatic and obvious.
The first test subject was Mr. Piggy and his gal, the tame Canadian geese. The first few nights the light was on they came up out of the creek to hang out in the yard, sometimes staying until midnight. I know they'd never done this before as Piggy isn't shy about coming up and rapping on the patio door with his beak, "Hey dude, we could use a little corn here." Even with the light, hanging out on land at night is goose suicide so I didn't feed them and they soon realized the folly of this practice.
The most prevalent test subjects are raccoons. Almost nightly several stop by to sort through the seed shucks under the bird feeders. The light seemed to make no difference to them one way or the other. I was especially surprised that they have no reaction when they are already there when I turn the light on. Now you'd think a coon veiled in darkness would jump out of his skin when a half jillion watts of light suddenly flash on – "Man, quickest sunrise I ever saw." Not. They don't even look up from their scrounging to marvel. I've also tried turning the light off for a short while and then back on. They don't even seem to notice.
Another test subject is a cute little 'possum that lives somewhere close by. Don't ask me why I find toads repulsive yet 'possum's cute, but I do. I like 'possums. She's pretty much like the 'coons. The light makes no never mind to her. She does sometimes look around when the light comes on and catches her by surprise, like, "Wow, now that's weird. Oh well…" and she goes back to scrounging. However, turning the light on and off several times is a bit too much for her and she shuffles off. Surprisingly, the so called dimwitted 'possum is spookier than the 'coons. Certainly the intense beams of the mega-light prevent them from seeing in my direction. I've tried opening the patio door, which takes a certain amount of movement and noise. The 'coons ignore it but little lady 'possum departs post haste at the slightest noise
Last night, the creek was all lit up as usual and Big Blue, our resident blue heron, crept stealthily into view. I've seen blue herons flying at night but didn't think they fished after dark. Was he taking advantage of the light for a midnight snack? He snuck steadily along and snatched two fish as he progressed. I figured surely he'd stay to work in the lit area but he just kept poking along and soon faded away into the black. He was like everyone else, no big deal. I'm really surprised these creatures are so indifferent to the light. There's fertile study grounds for someone. Carpe diem.