Quiet Times at Hideaway Pond

Well, it’s been an interesting time around the pond. Slow on a daily basis, but, in total over the last week or two, not so much.

For example, the turkeys have been very active. Their raiding parties have frequently come down the mountain and brutally laid waste to the seeds, dry berries and other delectable detrititus of summer‘s remains. Don’t even say thanks. Still holding a grudge about that Thanksgiving dinner business, I guess. Grumps.

One especially intrepid group flew from the lofty promontory of the ledge. Which is now graced by my lovely bride with the name “Willy’s Leap”, borrowed from the eponymous whale, Willy. He of Warner Bros movie fame. If one squints very hard and has had, perhaps, a little too much orange juice, or whatever, the vague image of a sperm whale gradually materializes. OK, Willy was an Orca and the ledge is a rock. Nobody’s perfect.

The pond, on the other hand is now a vast wet wasteland. The tall pondside grass has long ago gone to seed and turned brown. The grass carp no longer scan the surface for their elusive green prey. They and the bass have begun the annual descent to their dark bottom refuge. There they’ll decline into a state of torpor, little activity or nourishment needed in their semi-animated state. As will the turtles, crayfish, minnows and other denizens of the deep. How monotonous is that? The only thing now disturbing the pond is an occasional flock of ducks. With increasing frequency, a cool breeze now occasionally ripples the surface. Jack Frost’s announcement that his frigid grasp is on the way.

A raccoon was recently seen seeking shelter under our porch (now called the “sun room”, by the way, after a winterization upgrade). Hopefully, Chuck, the groundhog, has made a permanent move from there to his winter home in a nearby unused drainpipe. Otherwise, things might erupt into territorial warfare down there. Mammalian mayhem.

On sunny days we have occasionally noticed very fine single strands of silky spider web floating in the air among the falling leaves. If one looks closely, an almost microscopic juvenile spider can be seen on one end of each strand. These webs are the conveyance, with the help of a breeze, that carries the little guys to a new home. Away from the nest and the cannibalistic inclination of their parents. This is called ballooning. These tiny arachnid aerobats are probably orb weavers or linyphiids. Or so they tell me. There. You never know what gems of wisdom you’re going to acquire from this humble little blog. I know. You didn’t ask.

On the cervidaen front, a doe and her spring fawn visited about a week ago. The fawn had lost most of its spots and both wore their dark winter garb. Obligatory wardrobe of the season. The eight point buck visited us again the night before last, just as light fled altogether. His third visit in two weeks. We almost failed to see him due to his camouflaged winter coat. His royal rackness loitered, grazing in the front yard. Then gradually faded into the dark.