Rowdy Neighbours in British Columbia's South Okanagan

This is my backyard at my summer home in Penticton B.C. I don’t have many human neighbours because the house is perched on the side of a mountain overlooking Okanagan Lake. But I do have quite a few animal neighbours, and let’s just say they make their presence known. Each spring, Buddy the Black Bear emerges from hibernation with a hunger for chaos—and garbage. He’s fond of rummaging through my bins and playing soccer with my solar-powered driveway lights. A real menace with paws.

Mice take up home in my attic, performing Crazy Racer games behind the drywall in the evening. Last year, I noticed mouse droppings in the glove box of my van. A large, overfed rodent had taken up lodgings inside the vehicle. He visited wineries, attended business meetings, rode shotgun beside my dog, all without me knowing. Deer come and go because my place is situated on an invisible north south super-highway for local animals. Cougars and coyotes visit from time to time. Packrats perform night raids on my tomato bushes, wrecking devastation. Ravens ride summer thermals and soar constantly overhead. Hummingbirds hang out at my feeder. 

​A baby rattler even found its way on to my deck for a sunbathe in the middle of the day. He wasn't doing any harm, so I let him stay, head raised, seemingly drinking in the sun's rays.

My dog was fascinated. The protected species is native to the Okanagan and it's illegal to kill them. Just be cautious around the babies because they are most dangerous. Unlike older snakes, they empty their full load of venom when they strike, delivering a much large dose of poison. Mature snakes hold back venom  because they know more than one bite might be needed to survive the attack of a predator. 

I often find squished rattlesnakes on the road so, as an act of kindness, when I spot a live one, I stop my car, grab a stick, and carefully lift them up like piece of wriggling rope, rattle in full siren, and flip them into the bushes out of harm's way.

​Going for a Night Walk
​On a post-prandial night walk, a visitor from Vancouver didn’t believe me that rattlesnakes emerge at night to 'sunbathe'. They lounge on the warm tarmac of rural roads, soaking up the summer heat that spools up from the ground after dark. My friend chose to walk barefoot on our night walk. Sure enough, while we were out, I spotted a moving shadow in the gloom. 

I thrust out my arms and shouted, “Don’t move! Rattlesnake!” A juvenile snake was lying on the road, but he had sensed our presence and was making a quick getaway for the scrub. We stood and watched in the glare of our cellphone light. The young  reptile wasn’t interested in us and gave a good rattle of his tail to let us know he wanted away. But, if either one of us had accidentally trod on him, it would have been a different story.

​The Bad Boy Gang Makes an Early Morning Visit
Then, there are the bighorn sheep. Family groups of up to 10 gather on the rocky mountain slopes, around my property grazing on anything remotely green. Any vestige of a vegetable garden needs the most strategic planning to survive these plant-poaching herbivores.  Bighorn sheep are socially awkward, standing stick still and staring you down with languid dead eyes like you just insulted their mother.

 They will stay frozen in a group, staring sullenly as you walk by. Get too close though and they flee like startled cats. But nothing compares to the bighorn sheep Bad Boy Gang (below) that took over the road at the bottom of my driveway. They hung out. They lounged. They intimidated. Because knew who was in charge.

To make a point, the Bad Boy Gang came back at 5am. First, one of them thought my freshly planted yucca looked like breakfast and hooked it  out of the ground with its horns. Then his lady friend spotted her own reflection in the window pane of my back door and didn’t like the look of the hussy staring back. 
She charged. 
Many times.

BANG, BANG, BANG.
My Airbnb guests, whose bedroom is right beside that door, were now very much awake.
BANG, BANG, BANG.
CRAAAAAASSSHH!
I jumped out of bed, assuming a drink guest must have lost his key and was drunkenly opening the back door with his skull. Having run down a flight of stairs, I arrived just in time to see my glass door shatter beneath the delinquent sheep’s horns. 

Door lights have two panes. In this case, the outer one shattered, causing the charging sheep to flee. But the inner pane its still intact, which is why the mountains behind me are reflected  in the remaining glass, creating a stunningly beautiful visual effect.

For those unfamiliar with repairs and construction, it might appear from this image that a whole new door were required. But the glass lights in these kinds of doors are screw-in and thus repairable. A visit to the local Windsor Plywood store saw me $230 lighter in the wallet, but I was also given an unexpected upgrade on the new door light. The company’s inventory system said they had new lights just like mine in stock. But after some rooting around in the storage area, they could locate only more expensive models with internal venetian blinds inside. Lucky me, I got the venetian model for the price of one without.
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So, if you ever find yourself living in the South Okanagan, remember: be careful who you let into the neighbourhood. There’s something to be said for not riling up the locals.