Marcia Bonta

  • “White Face”

    Years ago, when we owned a dog, we fed him on the back porch. One early April evening we heard a commotion outside. I opened the kitchen door and saw Fritz sniffing at an opossum, which was laid out flat on its side, its eyes tightly shut, its mouth stretched in a gruesome grin that…

  • The Feeders at Night

    Every fall, in early November, I hang two bird feeders from our back porch latticework. One is an open, wooden platform feeder that has been batted apart at least three times by black bears and patiently repaired by my husband Bruce. That feeder is now almost 34 years old and has great sentimental value to…