By Mickey Walker-August 9, 2015
My backyard is the magic stuff of dreams. At least it was until I moved away to the country. Back then it was in a bustling urban area, yet cloaked in trees and lush vines that grew on a creek that time forgot. Within this green world and canopy of vegetation, it was the home of many wild creatures that had somehow lost their way to risk navigating the bustling freeways less than a mile away. There were armadillos, raccoons, feral cats (which I had to stop feeding because their numbers kept growing), and, of course, the birds. Oh yes, and rabbits and even deer who had to negotiate these tangled manmade arteries of roads and thoroughfares without getting smashed by a car or even a big truck. My backyard was just north of Houston back then.
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