Late Summer Days

It’s been a beautiful late summer around the pond. The shadows are becoming longer and the sun a little lower. But it’s a warm light, typical of the season. And there are still enough BTUs in the sun’s output to entice a few woods turtles to haul out onto the yard and soak in its gentle rays. Even a large snapper sounded and slumbered briefly on the surface. Sometimes an afternoon thunderstorm and light drizzle have rumpled the surface of the pond.

No complaints from the fish. The marauding heron will soon be leaving them in peace and heading south with his migrating avian pals. They’ll leave behind their hardier relatives–cardinals, blue jays, finches and other feathered friends more impervious to Jack Frost’s unwelcome bite. Meanwhile, as autumn wanes, winter comes and the pond freezes, the fish will happily ease into a chilly, peaceful torpor. Metabolism will lower to the point of minimal activity and required food intake. The perks of cold bloodedness.

The bears have left us and moved into the deeper woods. There they’ll finish fattening up for the long winter hibernation. They’ll be shopping for a suitable den in which to make their winter home by Nov/Dec. By Spring they’ll have slept if off. The females, much thinner, may have had a cub or two–or three or four. Gotta be a restless sleep. Their pulse will drop to about 8 beats per minute. They don’t eat or drink during hibernation so they don’t–well, you know. Makes for a clean den. Betcha always wondered. And no, I don’t recommend it.

The trees have adopted a slightly darker, more conservative green than the bright lights of their sylvan youth. With accents of tans and yellows on a few trees.The tupeloes are flashing some of their bright shiny reds.

Deer have been a little bit shy lately. It’s early for rutting season when it’s party time for every adult deer in the forest. A raucous cervidaen bacchanal. The annual prelude to fawn season in the Spring, And memories with which to regale their friends during their declining years.

A small doe wandered out of the woods at the side of the pond last evening. We noticed that she had changed her beautiful rust red summer coat to the more conservative gray brown of *erg* winter. Still beautiful, she stayed for only a short while and moved back into the woods. So time moves on in its inexorable way. The crisp beautiful blue skies and splashy colors of Autumn still lie ahead of us. And cold. And snow. But as the Indian authoress Anamika Mishra wrote, “Winter is not a season. It’s a celebration.”

And, hey, it’s still summer.