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  • Yesterday I evicted a couple of tenants.
    Well, not exactly tenants, more like squatters. Yeah, squatters. They were paying no rent. Didn't ask. Just moved in and took over. I couldn't believe it. The nerve.

    But still.
    The place was amazing. How ingenious.
    So warm and safe.
    Who knows where they got that mattress.
    Who knows how they dragged all that stuff up so high.
    Who knows where they'd go once I kicked them out.
    When I saw their eyes, from deep within their house, I almost closed the door and walked away.

    But still.

    I found them when I went out to get the house ready for the returning tenants back early from a winter away, weary from such a long trip, needing their home back. It was built for them. They're under stress. Life's not easy. Housing for their sort is scarce, driven off as they've been for a generation or more.

    And so, heartless as it felt, I threw the squatters out. Just like that. Wished them luck. Told them they'd find something else. Told them they'd be okay.

    But all night I couldn't get the image of those four eyes out of my mind.

    I couldn't get over my own ruthlessness, my willingness to choose, to play favorites, to muck with the ecosystem doing its own thing.

    But still. That's all people have been doing since we forgot we were a part of an ecosystem. I'm making reparations.

    But still. Maybe I'll go put that deer mice nest back in the bluebird house and whistle them back in. Apologize. Throw them a deer mice party or something. And put up a new house for the bluebirds. Build a whole city of nesting boxes and see who moves in.
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