Late Breakfast

By nature, he's not a creature of the light, but on this particular morning, 

a young raccoon's hunger overcame his caution. 

He made his way, nervously, along the deck railing toward the bird feeder. 

Sans bark, it was a bit tricky to hang on...

but the black oil sunflower seeds made it well worth the effort.

"Is that my mother calling?"

The small creature went to dismount, 

and found that getting into something can be easier than getting out of it.  

It was a long way down.

He managed, finally, to navigate to the deck and down the steps

before making a dash for his den tree, 

late to bed.

We're leaving him with a poem Don wrote for our grandson.

The little raccoon might want to study up.








All Night Diner

The eastern sky, with crescent moon,
is solid black, which suits the coon.

He hunts at night, and finds his snacks
little creatures must watch their backs.

His menu's long; he does not fuss
his diet is omnivorous.

Some crickets now, with some wild plums
then some birdseed, before light comes.

More bites, a burp, and then he's gone
to his den tree at early dawn.


Don Smiley

Linking with Little Things Thursday, 
Weekly Top Shot 
and Camera Critters

Gathering Storm

Click on photo for a larger view.

This isn't a typical Ozark August scene.  Last summer, under the sky's blank blue canvas, arid ground crunched underfoot, and weeds wilted from lack of moisture.  Now the days are enlivened with thunder and lightning and rain pouring from the clouds.

It's said that the Eskimos have a dozen different terms for snow.  We already have a couple for rain: gully-washer and toad-choaker, but if this stretch continues, our vocabulary may sprout a few more.  

Any suggestions?

Linking with
Weekly Top Shot
and Skywatch Friday

Nine O'Clock Hero

Yesterday, as Don was leaving for work, he called to me from outside.  "What do you make of this noise?" he asked.  That was a fair question, since he left some of his hearing in VietNam.

Close by, overhead, there was a loud rhythmic sound, not quite like anything we'd heard before.  At first I suspected that something was going wrong with the garage door mechanism, but we soon realized that the sound was coming from the gutter in front of the garage.  By the time we were able to set up a ladder, the cadence of the sound had slowed, and then stopped altogether.

Don let me go first, as he held the ladder.  One glance filled in the blanks.  Inside the gutter, in a little water, a cicada was laying upside down.  The gutter had served as a sound chamber, amplifying its struggles.  I picked it up carefully and, righting it, set it free.  It flew without a backward glance.

My delight was undiminished by the lack of a thank you.  After all, how often does one get to be a hero before nine?




Note: The photo above was taken on another day, when a cicada was drying its dew-laden wings. The little thing yesterday didn't hang around long enough for a portrait.

Linking with Camera Critters,
Weekly Top Shot, 
and 5 minute Friday

Swing Shift

The sun's almost up over the hill, 

and four young raccoons, their shift nearly over, forage under the bird feeder, 

their busy legs still wet from a romp in the birdbath. 

They look straight ahead, 

their small hands in constant motion as they grope for another morsel, 

a black oil sunflower seed that the birds left behind.

A slight disturbance sends them scrambling up the nearest tree, 

before they reverse their direction and run for the shelter of the woods.

The sun is up, the night crew gone, and the day crew has started their shift.

Linking with Camera Critters
and Weekly Top Shot

Morning Gold

There's something magical about a summer morning

just after the whip-poor-will has silenced its strident song

and before the glowing sun has appeared over the hill. 

It's then that we see some of the more reclusive creatures that inhabit our forest,
 like the bobcat that appeared recently.  

Yesterday, at first light, a family of raccoons scrambled down one tree 

and up another, four small masked fluff balls following a larger one, 

their striped tails broadcasting their identity.

It's only early in the morning that we see the big bucks; 

they visit occasionally,
and long before the sun comes up they melt back into the woods.

The Italians have a phrase, "Il mattino ha l'oro in bocca" 

which corresponds loosely to our adage "the early bird gets the worm".  

Literally, it translates, "the morning has gold in its mouth".

I like that thought, and I think it's true.

There's another thing that's golden about the morning.

The ancient Jewish prophet Jeremiah wrote,

"The faithful love of the Lord never ends!

His mercies never cease.

Great is His faithfulness;

His mercies begin afresh each morning."

As long ago as those words were written,
they are just as true today,
just as they always will be.




Linking with Camera Critters
and Weekly Top Shot

Home Alone

Click on any photo for a larger view.

It was hot out yesterday, with the air still and humid.  Not far from the house, at the base of an old oak tree, a sleeping fawn was curled into a tight ball. Don had discovered it before light, and where it lay, we could see it from the garage window.  It was a tiny one, the first we'd seen this year.

I watched the little creature as the sun rose in the sky 

and the shadows moved across the grass.

Its white spots moved up and down with the rhythm of its breathing.

Mid morning, it woke and sniffed its surroundings

before laying back down.

Barley is one of the gentlest souls around, 

and he was was curious enough to take a sniff...

but as soon as the little one raised its head, Barley backed away.  

The fawn woke again in the afternoon, stretched its legs,

then folded them up like an card table and returned to its nap.

We've often heard that it's not wise to intervene on behalf of a lone fawn, as the mothers normally leave them in a safe place and go about their business, but now its easier to see why people do that.  As far as we could tell, this little fawn was left alone just about ten hours, and we were wondering how it could stay hydrated on such a hot day.  Apparently their moisture requirements are much different than ours.

Finally, late in the afternoon, the mama doe came back.  

The thirsty little fawn drank its fill, then followed its mama into the woods. 

We love happy endings.

In His hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.

Job 12:10






LInking with Camera Critters
and Weekly Top Shot

Ponder This

Linking with Weekly Top Shot, Mandarin Orange Monday and Scripture and a Snapshot

Prison With a View

It's pretty silly, I suppose, to be trapped in one's house by a turkey, 

but more than once lately, that's what has happened here.  

To the east of the house a gobbler will appear over the brow of the hill, 

often by the old leaning tree, his tail fanned into a perfect arch, 

his feathers displaying their iridescent sheen in the sunlight.  

He takes mincing steps, 

his eyes trained on the hens for whom his display is intended, 

and who, as usual, ignore him.  

We watch, fascinated again by the scene we've witnessed so often. 

Sooner or later, however, one has to leave the house.  

It might be easy to slip out the back. 

Well no, actually, the deer are browsing on the west side of the house, 

and we'd hate to disturb them.

So, up goes the garage door; there's a gobble, then strong wing flaps.

The turkeys clear the trees sail away.

They'll be back soon enough,

amazing us with their beauty.

and in the meantime, we're going to revel in our brief freedom.

Linking with Wild Bird Wednesday
and Weekly Top Shot

Spring Gold

After a colorless winter,

 the earth heaves a sigh of relief;

  its breath rustles feathers, spins wildflowers into a dance, and stirs the dogwoods.

A chickadee examines a home in the dogwood tree;

  What could be nicer than a curtain of lacy white?

Gold finches, so drab in the winter,

have put their down jackets in mothballs,

 and now bid for attention as the males molt into their breeding colors...

and animate the forest with their brilliance.

There is gold in these hills,

not the kind of gold that many seek,

but warm and animated.

Who could ask for more?






Linking with Weekly Top Shot

Name Calling

Isn't it nice when someone knows your name?

Occasionally, when Don is entering his office, a friend will pull up,

 power down the car window, and call out his name.  

The other day, as he arrived at work, he heard a voice he didn't recognize calling, 

"Don, Don!".  It sounded like someone in distress.  

Don looked around the parking lot quickly, but didn't see anyone, 

until, glancing at a nearby fence he saw the source of the mystery. 

A mockingbird was perched there, calling his name.

Trying to be the helpful, friendly guy he always is, 

Don inquired, "Is there something I can do for you?  

The bird, apparently deciding there had been enough small talk, took wing. 

"Was it something I said?" Don asked, but the only reply was a distant call...

"Don! Don!"

Linking with

Wild Bird Wednesday

Camera Critters

Weekly Top Shot

Harbinger

Just when it seems like 

 the winter will never end--

up comes the crocus.

Linking with Weekly Top Shot

Light From Above

The sky was clear before dawn under a star-studded canopy,

Orion shining so bright overhead

you could almost touch the sword hanging from his belt.

As cool air settled in,

the lake, still warm from the sun, 

put on a new robe...

reflected sky and fog and grass...

soothed the memory of the harsh summer.

Trees vanished in the mist, 

then reappeared like the spare brush strokes of a Japanese ink painting.

On the hilltop, the early light streamed through the trees,

transforming the woods into a place of wonder...

and worship.

Linking with Soli Deo Gloria Sisterhood
and
Weekly Top Shot