Those of you who read "Brays of Our Lives" back in the 00s may remember " the Habitat "—a 400 square foot patch described before as, " rotten plywood, mangled barbed wire fences, old metal hardware, cinder blocks, burn barrels and fiberglass boat hull sections. A section of the property that will be allowed to return to a natural state, obscuring the items that are not a)burnable, or b)recyclable. You will build a nice safe fence around "the habitat", and you will enjoy hearing the tap-tap-tap of the yellow-bellied sapsuckers and seeing the flutter of goldfinches hopping out of the underbrush and into the pasture through gaps in the woven wire." Even here at the Ark, where my lot measures a mere 7,200 square feet, I have a Habitat—a place in the corner of the yard where fallen branches, raked up yard-debris, and old Christmas trees go. I think of it less as a yard-care quick fix, and more as a way of giving back to the wild creatures with whom I...