A rabbit bolted across the alley behind the bus barn as Lady and I rambled off this morning.
She didn’t notice, too busy sniffing at something on the side of the alley. Hah, I have been skills than an animal.
Of course, that takes me to the Talking Heads, “Animals.” (Hello, David Byrne.)
The lyrics (here from metrolyrics.com) are wonderfully brilliant) I particularly like:
I know the animals are laughing at us Don’t even know what a joke is
I digress. Of course I do.
One of the reasons I started writing “Rambles” in the first place was to heighten my ability to both notice things in the natural world and to be able to write them down afterward in a usable fashion.
A side benefit was that I found it deepened the experience of rambling.
(There’s something righteous about writing this while “Animals” beats in the background from the laptop.)
It was one of those mornings where I wish I was a bowhunter. Perfect morning to be sitting in a stand waiting for something to break the silence of the dampened earth. Today is opening day of deer hunting for bowhunters in Illinois.
I gambled this morning that my weather skills were good enough that I knew the rains were done for the moment. It did not smell like rain, so I did not even check radar and left without rain gear.
On our way out, we had to navigate the floor of the living room, which was littered with the bodies of young boys and sleeping bags. Our youngest had his 12th birthday party last night.
Time. I did not feel sadness at the time going on with his birthday, rather more of the inevitable stuff of life.
Sandpipers called from the north old clay pit as we crossed the side rail separating the town from the wildness of the town pond. Otherwise, not much stirring in terms of wildlife.
The same three hedge apples as yesterday were down on the east side of the south pit.
The surprise of the morning came when Lady all of a sudden became “Tough Girl’’ and began a throaty growl. Then I spotted a great blue heron flapping silently off from the southeast corner of the south pit.
Coming out of the wilds around the town pond and back into town, a lone light burned yellow behind the box cars lined by the grain elevators. (Hello Charles Demuth.) One of the grain dryers began blasting as we turned back toward town.
Wasn’t sure with all the rain whether or not the cook/chef would be there with his food truck, readying for the migrant and nursery workers. But the side flaps were up and he was loading up. Again, the best smell of the comfort food of cooked meats to fill tacos and burritos was on the back side of the truck because of the east winds.
So I took the photo above, per the request of Ken Gortowski. As I downloaded it, I noticed there is much in there. Lady is sniffing around an area, which I suspect still has remnants of interesting flavors from the town’s festival last weekend. The cornstalks on the light pole are leftover from the festival, too. And you can see the street lights still on in the half light of an overcast fall morning.
Ken I hope you appreciate being in the same ramble with Byrne and Demuth.
A rabbit–I think a different one than the one we spotted on the way out this morning–tried the old trick of sitting still out in the open of the yard southeast of the bus barn–but this time Lady noticed it and strained on the leash to get at it.
Back home, I carefully stepped over the bodies in the living room, unleashed the mutt, then went back out to my garden to check the rain gauge. We have 2.4 inches so far in the total rain event of last several days. At this rate, my late plantings of spinach and leaf lettuce should sprout any day now.
A couple yards over to the east, a blue jay squawked.