A long time ago, I took this picture from my bedroom window.

A young deer felt quite at home, and the pheasant in the background was one of about nine who did the daily rounds of our place. I felt like I lived in paradise.

Now, 31 years later, subdivisions have sprung up half a mile down the road and the horde of people who want their dogs to poop somewhere away from their own yard comes here to walk where there are still a few trees standing. That alone wouldn’t be so bad. I don’t dislike people and I love dogs (and cats and all sorts of animals), but when the dog walking came to our neighbourhood, many dog owners thought that once they left the cement and asphalt of their subdivision, it was okay to unhook their dogs and let them tear around in rural properties.

If I didn’t want my garden torn up, I would have to build a fence.

Sadly the deer can’t come in to wander through the yard anymore, and the pheasants and many quail we used to see have all become victims of unleashed dogs, stray cats, and the loss of habitat.

We still have trees and lots of shrubs for cover, so songbirds and little animals still come here. I don’t mind people walking by with their dogs on a leash; many of them are very pleasant, friendly, and considerate. Others are more self-centered. After virtue-signaling that they pick up their dog’s poop, they wait until no one sees, and fling the used poop bags into the shrubbery or into my yard.

I’m uncomfortable listening to personal conversations being shouted between two people walking together, or bellowed into the phones of people walking solo. I don’t need to know how much their last massage cost or that their credit card was rejected when they tried to pay for it.

I don’t understand why some of the people who visit our neighbourhood can’t enjoy the quiet of nature. Why are they so loud and rude? Why is it all about them?

Among the walkers who are considerate of people living nearby, are a few intrusive women between the age of 25 to 50, many of them behaving like teenagers. This small segment of society seems to be working hard to be noticed. I see them around town, in the grocery stores, in traffic, everywhere.

Yes, I believe in women’s rights. Very much so. But I believe in all people’s rights. No single group deserves more attention or privileges than another.

This special breed of women has inspired the muse in me today.

Me, Me, Me.

I’m important, don’t you see?

Everything is all ’bout me.

“Likes” on facebook overflow,

Watch my popularity grow.

When I walk for exercise,

I soak up admiring eyes,

With my leggings up my crack,

Men’s attention doesn’t lack.

When I drive I spare no thought,

If it is my turn or not.

They’ll back off and let me pass,

‘Cuz the right goes to the lass.

Ringing phone, who can it be?

There’s so many who love me.

I’ll be loud ’cause I am free,

And it’s all ’bout me, me, me.

It’s my right to cross on red,

You must wait, I go ahead,

All the world revolves ’round me,

I’m so special, me, me, me.

Are the badlands really bad?

The lack of a steady supply of water makes it hard to grow much. And look at the terrain. Can you imagine an expensive piece of farm machinery trying to negotiate those hillsides? I think farming this area is out of the question.

Still, some vegetation just plants itself. It has to be tough to survive. Grasses are real survivors if they only have a chance to sprout.

But seeds are easily washed away if not in the sparse rain, then at least in the run-off from snowmelt. The wind lends a hand too. Between them, wind and water carve out a landscape full of curves, rifts, pillars, and odd-shaped hills.

So what is the good of these badlands? That is, if there is anything good about them.

At first glance, it looks like a wasteland. You’d be surprised though, how much life it supports. Insects, obviously, and those attract birds and snakes. Lots of snakes. I guess that’s a good thing, if you like snakes. They have to go somewhere.

The carved out crumbling rock formations provide many crevices and holes for a snake to hide in – a place to get out of the hot sun. In the late fall, rattlers will travel miles through prairie grasslands to the badlands where they seek out underground chambers (caves and tunnels) and scooped-out areas where they can snuggle up together for the winter in their very own hibernaculum. These dens are often underground and close to the water table, but preferably in a place where it stays above freezing.

The erosion in the badlands creates all kinds of possible hiding places for small animals. The fields at the edge of a badlands area could provide food for insects, small rodents, rabbits, and game birds such as grouse and pheasants, which in turn attract predators such as hawks and owls.

Even deer may be found wandering through the badlands.

If you have a dog though, watch where it goes. You don’t want it to be bitten by a sneaky snake. If you take your dog there, maybe to hunt a partridge or other game bird for dinner, the best time to do that is probably early in the morning when it is cool and the snakes are still a bit poky.

A friend told me of a time when his dog (same breed as our Emma – an English field cocker) was running down a path ahead of him and a rattler was in the path directly in front of her. The dog leaped over the coiled up snake and kept going. It was lucky that, because of the cold morning, the snake was still quite lethargic. A few hours later, this scenario could have had an unhappy ending.

If you’re ever in a badlands area, keep your eyes open and your camera handy, and bring along your snakebite kit and the local vet’s phone number.