Osprey,
shrill death angel,
a sinister shadow
flying over fish in canals.
Is there premonition of death?
Does fear precede struggle,
death-flight to the
osprey’s nest?
Copyright© 2021 by Cheryl Batavia
Ospreys,
shrill birds of prey,
build nests in high places.
Ospreys fish to feed hungry chicks.
Powerful wings carry them home,
fish grasped in strong talons.
Caring for chicks,
ospreys fish.
Copyright© 2021 by Cheryl Batavia
Footprints,
festive dark stains
in exquisite detail…
a raccoons-only patio
party!
Raccoons,
I need to know…
why were we excluded?
Not even invited to watch
the fun!
Humans,
are you clueless?
Garbage cans tightly locked…
You don’t invite us to dinner…
Ever!
Copyright© 2021 by Cheryl Batavia
We lived near the beach
with armadillo neighbors
…not too neighborly!
At night, they dug grubs,
leaving holes and piles of poop…
We never saw them!
We filled holes, scooped scat.
They gnawed watermelon rinds
we left out to dry.
One evening at dusk,
I saw two dark shapes walking
along the hedgerow.
As I got closer,
I saw they were not raccoons…
Yes, armadillos!
They scooped out a den,
lived under our shed, eating
watermelon rinds.
One day they were gone.
We never met their children…
There were no goodbyes!
Copyright© 2020 by Cheryl Batavia
Our new neighborhood
is wooded…armadillo
home territory!
Out walking one day,
I met three armadillos
digging up breakfast.
They were cute, half-grown.
I stood there chatting with them…
They never looked up.
Recently, I saw
an armadillo stroll by,
armor slick with rain.
Undisturbed, he walked
along the edge of our yard
and into the woods.
One day I followed
a busy armadillo
all around our yard.
She went on eating,
politely ignoring me,
as she fed on ants.
She did not fear me…
No one shoots armadillos
around here, I guess!
That night and the next,
the armadillo dug dens
and abandoned them.
Armadillo’s gone!
House hunting in the woods?
We said no goodbyes…
An armadillo digs its way
into your heart.
Maybe she’ll be back!
Copyright© 2020 by Cheryl Batavia
“The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.” — supposedly Mahatma Gandhi said that. (Isn’t this picture of him great? He’s drafting a document at Birla House, Mumbai, August 1942. My novel-writer side can’t help but wonder if he knew that writing longhand enhances creativity — and I bet intelligence!) First off, he didn’t….
By Kanu Gandhi – gandhiserve.org, Public Domain.
Second off, if anyone said it, is it true? I love animals and have followed a vegetarian diet for years. All the same, I’m definitely nowhere near a saint, particularly given my now-and-again deviations into the hypocracy of eating fish. My father was wicked to his family, yet tears rolled down his cheeks when he heard that local geese were slaughtered. Hitler and was a vegetarian for the last part of his life. And he adored his dog…
View original post 974 more words
BABY’s not a pet…
she’s my service dog.
BABY’s well-trained;
she has a very important job.
BABY knows it’s time to work
when she is wearing her vest.
BABY reads my every mood.
She knows when I am stressed.
BABY loves to work;
I take her everywhere.
I am calm and safe
because my service dog is there.
Then we go home to chill;
I take off BABY’s vest.
BABY eats her supper
and flops down for a rest.
I find a movie on Netflix
and lock the door.
BABY cuddles up beside me,
and I listen to her snore.
BABY is my friend.
a member of my family.
I take care of BABY,
and she looks out for me.
Copyright© 2020 by Cheryl
Service dogs are trained and certified to help disabled people to live independently. The first and most well-known service dogs assist those who are blind, but service dogs and other service animals now help people with a variety of disabilities. For example, there are dogs who assist those in wheel chairs and people with epilepsy. Remember not to distract a dog who is wearing a service vest. Never pet or feed a service dog without the owner’s permission.
Babysitter’s cat
had kittens. Wow! Honeybunch
was so excited!
Calico kitten,
Sunshine, was a birthday gift…
Honeybunch was three.
Small girl and kitten…
Honeybunch and her Sunshine
became lifelong friends.
Sunshine was sunny…
swatting and chasing cat toys,
purring and snuggling.
Cuddled in slumber,
Honeybunch and Sunshine roamed
in the land of dreams.
Hiking through the woods,
Sunshine walked with Honeybunch
down to the river.
Honeybunch grew up,
Sunshine lived for fourteen years…
They were lifelong friends.
Copyright© 2020 by Cheryl Batavia
“Young man!…Hello!”
The boy was carrying
a gopher tortoise
toward the Gulf of Mexico.
“Don’t put that tortoise
in the water, please!
It’s not the kind of turtle
that travels the seas!”
“That’s an endangered
gopher tortoise, protected by law.”
“I didn’t know,” replied the boy.
“It’s the first one I ever saw!”
The boy put the tortoise
gently down on the sand,
and it crawled very slowly
up the beach to dry land.
I wish I had told the boy,
“Find ‘gopher tortoise’ in Wikipedia,
and tell your friends back home
how you found one in Florida!”
Copyright© 2020 by Cheryl Batavia
A roseate spoonbill was overheard to say,
“You’ll never guess who I saw today!
Gone from the Everglades for a hundred years,
flamingos have settled not far from here.”
The second spoonbill said, “It will be nice, I think,
having neighbors who also like to wear pink.
Maybe they won’t brag that their legs are longer,
or argue that their beaks are stronger.”
“We will have to be tactful and kind,”
said the first spoonbill, “and pay no mind
to flamingos’ skinny necks and feathery heads.
Some things are better left unsaid.”
“We have a lot in common. Let’s focus on that,”
said the second spoonbill. “We’ll have a chat
with our new neighbors. I think it will be good
to welcome flamingos back to the neighborhood.”
Reprinted from Hanging Out with Wild Animals II
Environmentally-themed book series for readers aged eight to twelve
Copyright© 2018 by Cheryl Batavia
I was visiting the pelicans on Naples Pier;
the sun was bright, and the water was clear,
I saw a school of stingrays far below,
swimming in The Gulf of Mexico.
Stingrays are flat fish with “wings”
and long, skinny tails with barbs that sting.
Swimming in schools, they stir up sand
to find their dinner of oysters and clams.
I wanted to join the rays…what a fun thing to do!
“Don’t step on them, and they won’t sting you,”
a nearby fisherman advised.
“Shuffle your feet and they’ll move aside.”
I shuffled my feet, and I stayed with the rays
’till the sun was setting at the end of the day.
Hanging out with stingrays was a lot of fun…
I was tired and sunburned, but I didn’t get stung.
I learned that serious injury from stingrays is rare,
but incidents sometimes do occur.
Although I won’t overreact if I encounter a stingray,
I won’t wade with schools of rays like I did that day.
Stingrays in touch tanks have their barbs removed.
Some stingray encounters are sting-free too.
Stingrays enjoy being petted and like to play.
I’d hang out with stingrays at aquariums any day!
Reprinted from Hanging Out with Wild Animals III
Environmentally-themed book series for ages eight to twelve
Copyright© 2019 by Cheryl Batavia
(with sincere apologies to Mark Twain)
In the middle of a snail population explosion,
inspired by Mark Twain’s short story,
“The Celebrated Jumping Frog of
Calaveras County,” we planned a snail race.
We thought snail races would be more fun
than frog races…longer to cheer,
longer to observe snail behavior,
and longer to shoot a snail video.
Calaveras County frogs get only three jumps…
Snails take their own sweet time
Keesha’s strategy to win the race
was to choose the largest snail.
Seth just wanted to shoot a snail video
and win an award at the county fair.
Jo planned to lure her snail with lettuce.
Clarence thought his snail would win
if he cheered louder than anybody else.
Clarence didn’t know snails can’t hear.
My strategy was to learn a lot about snails.
I did research. I drew a diagram and
labeled the shell, the foot, and the eye stalks.
I studied hard so I could pick the best snail;
I was sure my snail, Speedy, would win!
On the day of the snail race, we drew
two concentric circles on the tile floor.
Keesha had chosen a gigantic snail.
Jo had her lettuce ready.
We all put our snails in the center circle.
The first snail to leave the outer circle
would win the race. “Go, Speedy!” I whispered.
Seth had just started videoing the race
when Clarence began to cheer.
Even though snails don’t have ears
and can’t hear, they feel
sound wave vibrations
with their lower tentacles…
All the snails retreated into their shells!
“Shhh!” we told Clarence.
Speedy came out of his shell first.
Keesha’s giant snail had decided
never to come out again!
Jo’s snail was moving very slowly
away from the lettuce, leaving a slime trail
as it crawled into the outer circle.
Speedy certainly was fast, but he
couldn’t seem to move in a straight line;
he careened aimlessly around the outer circle,
leaving little silvery squiggles behind him.
Jo’s snail was about to cross the finish line.
Clarence couldn’t keep still any longer
and began cheering again for his snail.
Jo’s snail stopped immediately, just inside
the outer circle, and pulled into its shell.
Speedy was so smart, he finally wandered
outside the circle and won the race.
If you don’t believe me, you can watch
Seth’s video at the county fair.
After the race, we released the snails
far away from vegetable gardens.
Keesha’s giant snail finally came out of its shell.
Clarence apologized for making noise.
We washed the snail slime off our hands
and enjoyed an ice cream party
to celebrate Speedy’s big win.
Maybe someday, I’ll write a story,
“Speedy, the Celebrated Racing Snail
of Miami-Dade County!”
Copyright© 2020 by Cheryl Batavia
Inspired by a snail race in a sixth grade science class I taught in Miami. I am considering adding illustrations and developing this into a book for young readers, ages eight to twelve.
