I grew up in a family with pets. We had several different dogs and quite a number of cats. I liked the pets we had as children. I don’t, however, remember every identifying myself as the sole owner of a pet. We had a cat, for example, who was clearly my brother’s cat. Everyone in the house knew that she and he belonged together. I don’t remember having a dog or cat that was exclusively mine. That knowledge doesn’t come as any kind of disappointment to me. I’m sure that I could haver claimed one of the pets as my own and that others wouldn’t have objected. I just never felt a need to do so.

Our family had mostly outdoor pets, though the cats and dogs were allowed inside of the house at least some of the time. On the other hand, we also had donkeys that knew their place was outdoors.

And then there were the chickens. Chicks were delivered by the post office in those days and in the spring the boxes of squeaking chicks were brought home. They started out in a stock tank lined with bedding and a heat lamp. As they grew they graduated to the chicken coop and were allowed to run outside when they matured to full size. I’ve heard people refer to organizations about which they aren’t particularly fond as “Chicken Sh__” outfits. Well, I know chicken sh__. I’ve scooped it, shoveled it, cleaned out the coops. I’ve spread it and tilled it into the ground. I’m not a big fan of chicken sh__.

Actually, I’m not a big fan of chickens in general, though I don’t mind eating them once someone else has raised them, nursed them through the various illnesses that affect fowl, fed them, cleaned up after them, butchered them and plucked them. I’ve butchered enough chickens to last a lifetime and I doubt that I will ever want to butcher a chicken again no matter how long I live.

I like pets. We have a cat that lives with us. She is amusing to watch, occasionally nicely cuddly, and has a quirky enough personality to make telling stories about her fun. I feed her and clean her litter box and make sure that she has a warm bed on cold nights. But I always refer to her as “our daughter’s cat.” It was our daughter who adopted her and brought her home. Even though our daughter has now grown up and moved out and lives in her own home, I still refer to the cat as belonging to her.

Both of our children have dogs that live in their homes. They are genuinely nice animals and I like both of the dogs very much. I am grateful for our daughter’s dog who is a great companion when her husband has to work at night. The dog gives our daughter confidence to come home to an empty house and to live in a rural location without fear. I love to watch our grandson with his dog. The pair have formed a special bond that is a joy to witness. But I have no particular need to have a dog.

I can’t imagine my sister without a dog. She has had a dog that was hers, generally a yellow lab, for most of her adult life. When one comes to the end of its life she mourns and then, before long, there is a new puppy in the house. It seems to fit, to be natural, and right. I, however, don’t seem to need to have an animal that is exclusively mine.

I guess I prefer to have animals as neighbors. I love to watch the deer in the yard and in the spring when the fawns are coming, I check eagerly for spots in the grass. I love it when the moms get confident enough to show off their fawns and I like to watch the fawns run and chase as they gain strength and confidence in their legs. There are some deer in our neighborhood that I recognize as individuals and I fret over the dangers of the road that runs behind our home.

Although I’m sure that “love” is too strong a word for turkeys, I don’t mind having them as neighbors. I guess there are a few too many similarities between turkeys and chickens for me to form emotional bonds with the birds, but I find myself taking pictures of them from time to time.

Yesterday there were about 20 turkeys and a half dozen deer in our back yard all at the same time. Our yard really isn’t that big. It seems rather nice to me that the critters have allowed us to move into their neighborhood and since we’ve lived here through several generations of the animals, I guess that they just take it for granted that we’ll be around. The deer hardly run at all when I go out into the yard, though the turkeys scatter and run about as if they’ve never seen a person before. Just look at the size of the brains on those birds. They’re all instinct and no memory.

There is a beaver at the lake that I can’t wait to go visit. He spends most of his time in the lodge with occasional swims under the ice these days, but as soon as the ice starts to go out of the lake in the spring, I’ll be there checking on him.

There is an osprey nest at Stockade Lake that I’m eager to check out as soon as spring arrives. I got to witness the chicks fledging in the early fall this year and it seems like such a good place for the birds that I am eagerly anticipating the eggs of next spring and the chicks of summer.

Still, I don’t seem to have the urge to own any animals. I’m happy with others being the owners. I like having animal neighbors. I’m lucky to live in this place that so many critters call home. It’s just that none of them seem like they are exclusively “mine.” That’s OK by me.

If you happen to want a turkey, we’ve got plenty to share.

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