Saturday, August 17, 2013

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











Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Carrying the Sky


"The bluebird carries the sky on his back."

Henry David Thoreau





























It must be tough being a bluebird, carrying the sky and all, 

not to mention the responsibility of representing Missouri, 

and several other states, as the state bird.

Just now, the youngsters are gearing up for their role.































After a plunge in the birdbath...




tail feathers must be rearranged...




 just so.





Linking with Wild Bird Wednesday


Thursday, August 8, 2013

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

Thursday, August 1, 2013

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.