Practicing Terraphilia

Water and Love for Our Wild Neighbors

I heard you 
soft tongue lapping at the bird bath before dawn 
thirsty song dog

It was the sound of lapping that woke me, I think. I crept to the bathroom in the half-dark to look out the open window. The lapping paused, and you looked up, not 15 feet away, big ears alert. You bent your head to drink again before trotting off, nonchalant as only coyotes can be. The gift of wild grace!

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Hello Friends!

I want to share the story of the visitor in the pre-dawn gloaming as a reminder of the blessings of practicing our terraphilia by loving—and nurturing—our wild neighbors along with the human ones.

I live in the high-desert grasslands of northern New Mexico, where the Southern Great Plains meet the arid juniper-piñon pine woodlands of the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. We balance on the edge of drought, reveling in the miracle when rain or snow brings green back.

Sunshine is abundant here, water is decidedly not.

Water for the Wild Ones

When I moved to my sweet house in the midst of open prairie and shrubby juniper trees, I was delighted to find a fountain in the front courtyard. It provided a soothing bubbling sound for me and, if I left the front gate open, would offer fresh water for the birds and lizards, butterflies and bees, and any others who could fly, scramble or stand on hind feet to reach the basin with its life-giving fluid.

I wasn’t fast enough to catch the hummingbird bathing in the bubbling water at the top of the fountain!

That fountain has welcomed dozens of robins in winter, crowding the rim as they bob and drink, cerulean bluebirds, bright as chips of sky; it has attracted huge ravens, swamping the basin as they throw water over their dusty feathers and tiny, shimmering hummingbirds perching by the burbling spout.

Robins in a crowd; male western bluebird admiring his reflection.

I have watched furry-bodied bumblebees drink from the rocks I placed in the bowl to give little ones a safe way to reach the water, swallowtail butterflies bathing in the spray, and lizards racing around the rim.

To spread out the water sources, I also placed an unfinished blue granite basin, a Richard sculpture, in the back garden on a small stand. The scrub jays and sage thrashers found it right away, others followed.

When a sage thrasher, dark-eyed junco and American robin walk into a bar….

And then I added a shallow basin (actually, an extra-large saucer for a plant pot) on the ground in the shade of a juniper tree right off the garage. It’s only visible from my bathroom window, but it’s a private drinking spot for anyone shy.

Plant-pot-saucer basin with rocks for little ones to climb out if they fall in.

A Nocturnal Visitor

It’s this last water source that attracted the visitor who woke me in the not-quite-darkness before dawn. I sat up in bed, groggy, listening to the distinct sound of a dog lapping water.

For a moment, I wondered how Isis, my Great Dane, had dragged her water bowl from the laundry room to my bedroom. And then I remembered that Isis has been gone for longer than Richard, and her water bowl was in a house I sold ten years ago in a town four hours north.

Where was the dog-tongue-lapping noise coming from? I followed the sound into the bathroom, looked out the open window, and saw the silhouette of a coyote, all big ears and long legs, drinking at the basin not 15 feet away.

“Hello, Little Brother or Sister!” I said under my breath. The coyote raised their head for a moment, drank another long draught and trotted off, merging into the gloaming.

What a gift of wildness to start my day!

Be a Good Neighbor

Many of us put out bird feeders, but we forget to supply water too. Fresh water is as crucial to the lives of our wild neighbors as food is, and sometimes more difficult to find.

So wherever you live, put out a basin you can keep filled—a garbage-can-lid turned upside down or a large plant-pot saucer will do—for your neighbors, the more-than-human lives, to drink from.

Roadrunner drinking from a basin made from a plant saucer. The power cord is for a bird bath heater to keep the water from freezing in winter.

If your basin is deep, add a few rocks that will stick above the water surface to give little ones a way to climb out on in case they fall in. And make sure to empty and scrub the basin and rocks regularly to keep algae or other aquatic lives from contaminating the water.

If you live where there are free-roaming cats, place the basin on a stand or stump or wall high enough that birds and others will be out of reach of  eager feline claws.

If you have two basins, make a “puddling” basin for butterflies: fill the basin with sand, add water to just below to the top of the sand, and enjoy the butterflies who light on the sand and drink from the water in the spaces between sand grains.

Offering fresh water is one way to nurture nature where you live, and to practice terraphilia, renewing our sacred bond with to the more-than-human lives who are our neighbors on this animate planet. And if you hear lapping in the night, go see who is out there. You never know who you might meet!

Blessings, Susan