Mulling things on my morning ramble
with Storm, the family’s mixed Lab.
The squirrels were out this morning.
Storm chased one around our neighbor’s big elm. The squirrel barreled around the tree and spotted me, then just froze in the indecisiveness of which way to turn.
I had to laugh.
And it reminded me of my favorite dog, Trover. He was a half-breed fox terrier, fiercely loyal to me when I was in my late teens.
I started taking him along hunting for small game as a companion. He stayed close, which is generally good in a canine hunting companion.
Even helped to freeze rabbits between us, which made for easy shots.
By no particular skill of his own, Trover turned out to be a helluva squirrel dog. He would range 30 to 50 yards ahead of me. Any squirrels would unwisely circle around the back side of the tree to avoid detection by him.
Only that generally made them quite visible to me and a relatively easy shot. My only limit of squirrels in my life came when I was semi-legally hunting the old oaks and walnuts along a small dirt road, Martin Road.
In the decades since, it was improved (paved and the big trees taken down). I say improved and should probably put quotations around it. In my world, I don’t really think that defines improved.
I haven’t been along Martin Road in probably 10 years or so. It has probably been “improved” even more.
But I digress.
Good to see the squirrels out on a morning much warmer than I expected in the low 50s. Still a fall morning, but I didn’t really need both my hood coat and camo fleece.
A great blue heron flapped off from the side of the bridge by the neckdown between the two old clay pits. That’s a sure sign of fall.
For no reason I can figure, a pair of Canada geese were setting up on the island on the south pit. And the one up on top gave the meathead and me a good honking out.
Two doves, finally, at the feed mill on the edge of town.