Travelling tails: The animals of Minneapolis

On paper, spending time in a new country should provide plenty of opportunities for spotting the local wildlife.  There are certainly enough wildlife ‘teasers’ around - the Minneapolis student American football team is known as ‘The Gophers’, the basketball team is ‘The Timberwolves’ (another name for the common grey wolf, thank you Wikipedia) and I’ve passed at least three different foot outlets whose logo features a moose (although possibly an elk).   Even lowering my expectations, which may be necessary given the (hopefully) tiny chance of a moose encounter in downtown Minneapolis,  then the intrusion of raccoons into American cities is complained about as much as foxes are back home.  Honestly, I'd leave a trail of rubbish leading to my door if it meant I could see a raccoon! Sadly, the only native wildlife I have seen near my flat so far are grey squirrels, a million of them filling the trees in my local park. 

Part of the problem is my lack of transport.  After several near-death experiences on my borrowed bike I’m refusing to drive over here until everyone agrees to join me on the correct, left, side of the road, something I inadvertently keep trying to revert to every time I turn a corner without concentrating.  Cycling is useful for shorter trips (including the 10 mile cycle to the office - distance has a different meaning here) but the sheer size of Minnesota means that I could cycle for hours are still not be in the countryside.

I’d noticed however, that the office which is kindly hosting me during my secondment to Minneapolis, and which is outside of the main city, albeit in an industrial wasteland between the Mall of America and the International Airport rather than in anything that could be classed as countryside, was next door to a ‘National Wildlife Refuge’.  Based on the abundant and typically enthusiastic signage (1km to Wildlife Refuge!’ ‘ Next Exit for Wildlife Refuge!’) I assumed the wildlife refuge must be a hotspot for wildlife, most likely teeming with small and furry creatures who arrive carrying their worldly possessions in red spotted handkerchief, assuming of course that they successfully avoid  the major eight-lane highway that runs past the entrance.  I decided to shift my running to lunchtime in order to check it out.  

Inside the wildlife refuge was extremely attractive, probably best described as a wetlands nature reserve which flanked the Minneapolis river.  The running track followed the treeline along the river, and the shade was extremely welcome given the 30^oC midday temperatures.   Possibly also because of the midday temperatures, I didn’t see much wildlife.  Although the long grass was buzzing with the sound of hundreds of grasshoppers (or possibly crickets) it was too hot for anything to show itself.  In fact the only animals I saw for 20 minutes were frogs, all exactly the same colour as the path and very disconcerting when they leapt out unexpectedly from beneath by descending feet.  Lucky for them I’m not very fast at the moment.  On the way back I saw – to great excitement!  Half a ribbon snake!  Or at least half a Google-says-it’s-a-ribbon-snake, snake.  Half a snake in this case because, alerted by the thud of my feet as I intermittently jumped over a frog, it was whipping off the path and into the grass.  Still, a definite tick in the eye-spy book of genuine American wildlife.  

Luckily I have also been able to satisfy my need to spend time with animals by wiling away several happy hours in the livestock barns at the State Fair.  I discovered an entirely new type of goat, the La Mancha.  An American dairy breed notable for its tiny ears, and another tick in my American wildlife book (OK, possibly a wildlife book that I’ve added additional pages to for farm animals).  Other than that I'll just have to make do with Skyping the guys at home.  Just over seven weeks to go!

Tiberius and Sibelius try out Skype

A LaMancha goat