We haven't seen him or heard from him again. It's still in my mind when the boys are outside. The scene in Lago's neighborhood last year is one being replayed with increasing frequency in suburbs around Connecticut as wild animals, whose natural habitats have been displaced or altered by man's ever-expanding development, seek out new territory. No more are wildlife battles mostly fought over vast expanses of wilderness area or over little-known and exotic species, such as the spotted owl. With the growth of the suburban forest, the battles are quickly becoming more personal.
Beavers seem cuddly and captivating when they do the backstroke in a nearby pond.
But once their dams flood our septic fields and basements, or a deer decides to make entire rows of our vegetable gardens his noon-day meal, the clarion call for pelts and hides becomes loud indeed. Black bears in our garbage. Kitty taken hostage by a hungry coyote. A rattlesnake den halting the construction of a suburban housing development. With garbage and trash bins for foraging, easy access to water and virtually no natural enemies, just about the only foe in this paradise regained is the moving automobile.