Mulling things on my morning ramble with Storm, the family’s mixed Lab.
It was the kind of morning–the racket of crickets and other singing insects piercing the predawn dark–where I wished I was walking with Carl Strange.
Because I am sure I was hearing more than crickets chirping and the DuPage County naturalist, author of “Singing Insects of the Chicago Region,” would have been able to pull strands of sound from the underbrush and trees. Then identify them.
There are more mysteries outside than I will ever solve.
Up early again, as in 4 a.m., to finish off my column for the Post-Tribune so I could spend the day chaperoning my daughter’s opener for a theater production.
Other than the singing insects, the outside theater was quiet. Though I did hear a few sandpipers on the north old clay pit as we came off the extended ramble.
On the edge of town, I noticed how imposing the grain elevators were and stopped to take some photos.
That’s the first I heard some wildlife, a handful of Canada geese honking and flying low over downtown.
Looking at the grain elevators, I decided I should pitch a project to Larry Green, author/photographer/artist of “Water Tanks of Chicago: A Vanishing Urban Legacy.”
I think he should try to do a book on “Grain Elevators of Kankakee: A Rural Legacy.” Larry loves fishing the Kankakee River. He could double up.
By the woodworker’s house across from the bus barn, a rabbit bolted, then sat and tried to disappear right in front of us.
Forget the meathead, I am not sure but rabbits are the smartest critters in the world.
We had not flushed a rabbit in weeks. I think predators have been making inroads or the rabbits have been going nocturnal.
Dawn has only a hint under the cloudy sky as we neared home.