Village Creek Wild Life

The Wild life in Village Creek could and does, mean two very different things depending on your generation. First, the obvious, are the late night parties on the beach, many of which I and my contemporaries used to participate. Now my children (not even children any more) bask in the moon light down on the beach. The ‘other wild life’ refers to that of the most literal sense…herons, turkeys, turtles, raccoons, possums, fox, swans, and of course, the dear deer (of which I will say no more).

Of the many benefits we can all share by living on one hundred acres plus of dry and marsh land is opportunity to enjoy (and sometimes not) the abundance and variety of the local native animal population. Rarely a day goes by when I don’t find my self slowing down around a curve to either avoid or simply admire the local fauna on its way.

There was a time when I thought I saw a small bear out in the marsh. Staring out into the early morning marsh light I saw something slow and lumbering, round and black…this went on for days until one morning when I grabbed my binoculars and camera and drove over to the power plant for a better view. The guard on duty said he didn’t know anything about a bear, but there was the biggest turkey he ever saw strolling about…with his plumbs fully extended, from a distance and at 5am, it certainly looked like a bear to me!

The abundance of turkeys (not with standing a few neighbors) in our little Shangri-La is robust and growing. Albeit, the only thing fast about turkeys, is they’re growth. They are otherwise slow, stupid and down right ugly; until they ‘pride up’ as they slowly pivot like fashion models, casually making their way across the road – full brood in tack- one at a time…very slowly…very, very slowly. Turkeys don’t care about the gardens and they’d probably eat mosquitoes if they were a bit faster. They’re keepers.

Herons. Another magnificently large bird, as is the magnificently large target they leave on the road, driveway and roof tops. I believe herons nest over asphalt so as to best camouflage them selves from predators above. The nests are easy to find. Simply look for a 12’ round white splat full of seafood remnants, baby turtles and sometimes frog parts. On a hot August day, when arid and crusty, the ‘Pollock-esque’ feature is topped with a thick layer of buzzing flies. Need I mention the fragrance? Welcome to my driveway. Herons are as grand as the deer and equally menacing. The male heron makes a redeeming and charming ‘hoot like whisper’ when feeling particularly pleased with himself. Flying across our front yard or over the marsh, with their 3’ wing span and neck firmly extended, they remind us of prehistoric birds. Pterodactyls?

If you’re lucky, you’ve seen the red fox and pheasant around the corner on Splitrock. If you’re unlucky, you’ve been hissed at by the swans as they come on the beach stalking small children…we’ve had raccoons nesting in our bath room, possums come in to share the dog bowl, wood chucks trampling the garden and a baby squirrel ran across our bed and up the curtains in our bedroom at 4am. Now that’s wild life! -Lisa McInnis

Elinor and Frika

On a more personal and sincere note, my VCHOA mentor of the year award goes, hands down to my dear friends, Elinor and Frika Alberts, since deceased. How I miss the days when I would sit under the back deck with the two of them, Frika in his red suspenders and Elinor in all her grandeur. Elinor shared with me her love of the garden and so mine grew. Clearly, she was of the greatest influence in what went on to be a thriving career for me. I think of her often and miss her more.

I admired their relationship as I sat between the two of them. They were loving and attentive to each other, generous with others. Elinor shared her stories with me. Their personal history is unique and worthy of a tale. He, a surrendered German prisoner in a POW camp in Arizona and her, a black nurse on site. Black nurses were not sent over seas. The story goes, when he first met her in the POW cafeteria, he said ‘Elinor, I’m going to marry you’. The rest is history. Being a black woman married to a white German man made for a life fraught with challenge during some very tumultuous years. One story took place in a Darien market, not too long ago, when a white woman mentioned to Elinor that she had noticed her in the market before “as she was clean and appeared educated” and this lady was wondering if Elinor would be interested in a domestic job… With a seemingly endless supply of dignity, Elinor conjured up something suitable and polite and moved on.

Elinor had an extensive collection of black history art work as well as trinkets and tid bits gathered from all over the world - displayed through out their home. In addition, Elinor was a fashion maven and had closets and drawers full of interesting and exotic linens, capes, scarves and jewelry all wrapped up in little plastic bags tucked away. We played dress up and on occasion, we’d have tea and sweets, an opportunity for her to resurrect elegant serving knives, tiny sorbet spoons, proper serving dishes and linen. She was all that and more.

Elinor had an entourage and I felt lucky to be included. People tended to gravitate towards her. She could be found at a Creek picnic sitting up straight in her folding chair, holding court with a variety of friends and neighbors. Elinor possessed an undeniable elegance and dignified presence. They were a magnificent duo. Frika always by her side, as he is now. Bless them both.

-Lisa McInnis