Since then, I've been lucky to (mostly) live where woods and towns overlap, and have plenty of animal visitors. Where I live now, near a state forest, it's mostly deer and turkeys, although my neighbor had some bears come through his yard and knock down some bird feeders. I also puzzled over an deer carcass that resembled a mountain lion kill (partially buried, hide pulled off the bones). In other places there was more variety: a black bear loped past my cabin as I sat on the porch eating cereal; bison surrounded our state park housing in South Dakota, creating a unique excuse for being late to work.
Sometime it's not all great. I suspect a bunny of decimating some nice plants in my garden. A band of roving turkeys is kind of cool, and fun to laugh at when they start to roost for the night (since they aren't very good at flying, they seem to attack the trees, flying at them and hoping for the best), but they can make quite a mess. Something was chewing on my juniper trees until I finally caught the culprits.
Still, I'd rather have wildlife than concrete and traffic. When it snows I see their tracks, the paths they make, where they stop to eat. It's a glimpse into a world that is parallel to ours but is largely hidden, all the animals moving around us, living and breathing and dying, while although so close to them we don't see, and mostly have no idea.