During the first few decades that we lived in the Grovers Mill section of West Windsor practically everyone we knew had a pet of some kind, usually a dog or a cat, but also some others — including some that were quite exotic. We arrived with our half-boxer named Otto. As were all the other animals in the neighborhood, he was allowed to roam around outside freely. There was so little traffic then (a few cars a day on Cranbury Road) that there was very little danger to pets that weren’t tied up. Otto stuck close to home, anyway, so we didn’t worry about his safety. He usually wanted to be inside.
Over the years since then, we have had several other dogs, a number of cats, and the usual collection of small critters like gerbils, hamsters, mice, and even two ducks (Max and Pippin) — in their own backyard pen complete with house. (We still have the house, 40 years later, with their names on it.)
One of the most unusual pets we learned about made itself known by the noise it made. A few times every day we heard a strange, very loud, shrieking sound coming from the direction of Millstone Road about a quarter-mile away. We had never heard the sound before but knew it was some animal, probably a pet of some kind. (We dismissed the idea that it might be a Martian in distress, still hanging around the neighborhood after its 1938 Halloween misadventure of two decades before.)
As it was, it turned out to be a peacock. A peacock? Yes. A peacock’s cry is amazing mainly because of its intensity and harshness. You look at a beautiful peacock and you wonder, “How can this bird make such a terrible piercing noise?” Of course we got used to it, and I don’t even remember when it stopped, but it was a long time ago. (If you want to hear a peacock, go to Grounds For Sculpture in Hamilton. They’re all over the place.)
But there have been many other unusual pets among the many families that have come to West Windsor in the years since. We have had our share. In addition to those mentioned above, we have also had snakes and several kinds of turtles. We even nursed a friend’s goose back to health in our backyard “emergency room.”
But of all the unusual pets I’ve known about, my favorite is Abbott, the sheep that belonged to Mort and Sue Levine. Yes, a sheep. He lived tethered with a 50-foot rope to a stake in their backyard next to the Maurice Hawk School for more than 11 years. When they went to pick him up at a sheep farm not far away, the owner gave them a written sheet of instructions for how to prepare and cook lamb.
When they told the owner they weren’t going to eat him and that they were going to keep him as a pet, the owner didn’t believe them. But that’s what they did, and Abbot was a fixture of the neighborhood for more than a decade. One time they got a call from the principal of the school next door to tell them that the sheep had gotten loose and had knocked over the school custodian, who was trying to catch him. They went to the rescue, and Abbot was retethered to his stake.
Currently West Windsor issues about 2,000 dog licenses and 300 cat licenses each year. But in addition to dogs and cats I have known of canaries, parrots, parakeets, a llama, a chinchilla, foxes, goats, an alpaca, a donkey, cows, and horses, all kept as pets. Of course, many of these have no way to show affection the way cats and dogs do, but they are pets nonetheless and — I prefer to assume — are loved by their owners.
Other wild animals we once encountered regularly on our own property have included not only the usual deer, rabbits, gray squirrels, and chipmunks, but also several varieties of frogs and toads as well as weasels, skunks, flying squirrels, and bats. I even saw a fox once sneaking down our driveway. Except for the gray squirrels, chipmunks, and deer, practically all of these have disappeared from our area in recent decades. But anywhere there are oak trees with their acorns, you will always find gray squirrels, with a few of their natural black mutations, as well.
My own most unusual pet story involves a snake. Well, it wasn’t really a pet, but it was a guest in the house for several months. One Sunday morning, I decided to go over to the lab where I worked to catch up on a project — it was only a mile from my house, so I could do that when I felt like it. When I opened the lab door, I saw a small wormy-looking thing on the floor just inside. I almost stepped on it.
My first thought was that it was a large earthworm. But since it was December I didn’t think that could be possible because the ground was pretty well frozen by then. I looked closer and realized that it was a tiny snake, with scales, a mouth, and eyes. Then I remembered back to my Boy Scout merit badge in Reptile Study. It had to be a DeKay’s Brown Snake, one of the smallest snakes in North America. This one was only about six inches long. Well, here it was in the nice warm lab, in West Windsor of all places.
Since I didn’t have the heart to put it out in the cold — and my lab project could wait a while — I took it home in a paper bag and put it in a dry fish tank we had once used for turtles. I added some dirt and vegetation from some of our house plants and made a cover out of wire mesh. We named it Herman. Then it was a matter of finding a place for the tank where it would be out of reach of our cats.
I also had to figure out what to feed it. It wasn’t interested in ant eggs or turtle food. I found that by digging deep in the garden I could get down to thawed ground where there were live earthworms. And, believe it or not, Herman actually ate them. We also gave him water, but I don’t remember ever seeing him drink any. Unfortunately, one day after a couple of months we found the tank on its side, and Herman was nowhere to be seen. At least one of our cats had a guilty look on its face. But it was an unusual pet adventure while it lasted. Pets are where you find them.
