Mulling things on my morning ramble with Storm, our family’s mixed Lab.
On Saturday, I hunted geese from a goose pit in the middle of a bean field. I would say 90 percent, well maybe 75 percent, I could never print on the Sun-Times outdoors page.
At one point, through my laughter at another ribald remark, I asked, “Do you think women talk like this when they are together?”
And one guy, I will leave him nameless, said, “Of course they do.”
I don’t think so, in part because men look at the world differently, think differently from a different starting point.
Dark again this morning when we set out. Though I waited long enough that the rain was down to a spritz or drizzle, depending on your definition. Not sure there is an official definition for spritz.
In the dark, nothing doing in terms of wildlife, other than some faint honking of Canada geese on the lake to the west and the calling of sandpipers by the north old clay pit.
As I came off the extended part of the extended ramble, I noticed the growing fungi, at least I think it is a fungi, pictured at the top in the middle of some long grass.
Any one know what it is?
While I counted the 52 hedge apples-forget that I ever wondered if hedge apples would fall this fall–a lone mourning dove fluttered out of line of Osage orange trees.
A rabbit rustled off unseen through the brush on the old side rail, now a trail, above the south end of the south old clay pit.
Then I finally saw some wildlife, well, at least one. A rabbit bolted across the path as we came out of the wild area known as “The Town Pond” and neared the grain elevator on the edge of town.
As we closed in on home, I noticed, with the leaves off the top of the neighbor’s maple, three squirrel nests in the tree.
Fall exposes things.
