Whiffenpoof

A placid blue sky above the pond for the last several days. The cyclonic action of the recent tropical depression that crept up the coast has soaked us and moved on. Left our little cocoon a fresh verdant green.

However, “placid” is not the word I would choose to describe recent Hideaway critter activity.

Only an hour ago I was alerted (punched firmly and painfully in the arm, in fact) by my lovely bride. There was a male bear next to the porch, about 15 ft. behind her. Totally oblivious of us, he was scratching in the moss for grubs and seeds. Or some other sylvan delicacy appealing to the bearish palate. He took casual note of us. Then, unabashed, he wandered off into the woods. Not so much as a fare ye well.

Late yesterday afternoon, we found a mink lurking a few feet from the porch. Mink like marshy watery places. Extremely shy and reclusive, they don’t welcome human company. It scampered into a nearby stand of ferns and disappeared.

The following can be described only as odd. OK, mea culpa. Yesterday I was at the computer–which is located on the porch facing the pond–when a large flock of water birds took flight about 60 ft. from me. They winged off to the East so quickly that I had no time to look up and identify them. From my brief observation, I’m guessing Canada geese. How they got so close to me without my noticing, I can attribute only to rapt inattention. What they were doing apparently migrating at this time of year, I have no idea. And why east? Must have lost their compass and gotten lost. We have dubbed them “mystery birds”. Or perhaps they were a hallucination. A delusion. Something I ate. We’ll never know. Cue the “Twilight Zone” theme.

Further critter action around Hideaway Pond has involved our cervidaen friends. A doe with fawns has arrived each evening to dine near the ledge. Her young charges, apparently devoid of table manners, frolic around, typical of their ilk. And ilks, in general, I guess.

A group of three rowdy young bucks–two 4 pointers and a 6 pointer–charged through the yard last night. Young college boys out stretching their youthful testosterone laden legs. They stopped in the woods near the ledge, standing on their rear legs to feed on low hanging greenery. One almost expects to hear faint strains of the “Whiffenpoof Song”.

A mother Carolina wren continues to tend to her tiny children in one of the begonia baskets hanging on the porch. We watch her daily maternal routine from mere feet away. Shari waters the plant very carefully and says that there are some little things other than a begonia plant growing in that basket.

And we suddenly have a very small squirrel with an orange tail. Don’t ask. Squirrels have feelings too.

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