Mulling things on my morning ramble with Storm, the family’s mixed Lab.
Within two blocks of rambling off this morning, I spotted four squirrels; three grays and one black. The rising sun caught one gray on a branch and cast a long shadow off it on the sidewalk. It was kind of neat.
What made seeing all those squirrels significant is that this morning was the opening of squirrel hunting in Illinois and I had went out for a couple hours. So I don’t know if the number of squirrels was related to the ramble starting an hour or so later than usual or because I was attuned to squirrels.
Lord knows, the two squirrels I heard this morning while hunting, i most certainly did not see in the canopy.
Don’t ask me why, but it reminded me of the country cousin episode of “Tom and Jerry.” Go figure in this day and age, but I could not Google up that episode, only the Cousin Muscles episode.
What I am trying to say there is quite a difference between truly wild animals and those that are attuned to and comfortable in the modern human world. Coyotes come to mind
Deer are probably the most obvious example of what I am talking about. A prime example is on Chicago’s Northwest Side where the deer at Bunker Hill are nearly pets they are so tame.
So people whose only experience with deer are those think deer hunters are slaughterers, not hunters. Wild deer may share the same DNA but they are vastly different in their wild settings.
Setting makes the context.
Canada geese grazed and crapped all over the ball field, and the putting and chipping greens across the road leading back to the town pond.
A small boat was fishing the far north end of the north old pit. Small fish dimpled the surface and dived away on the south pit.
The blackberries appear to have reached their peak. I noticed somebody picked a few higher ones, but left the tougher (and more likely dusty) ones down low.
Probably should pick some blackberries today. And pick up around the town pond. Fishermen trash has increased with the relatively mellow weather the past week.
Mourning doves scattered below the feeder on the front porch as we came up the front steps. But not a single squirrel.
Go figure.
