Blog– 6/3/21–Hideaway Pond– hideawaypond.com
Somber gray skies have loomed over the Pond for the past week. And a light northwesterly wind has blown in a soggy front. Tamar, goddess of weather, is in a glum mood.
The leaves have lost their spring iridescence and begun to show the dark green hints of approaching summer. The Hideaway has become more hidden.
Forsythia, lilacs, and the crabapple tree have come and gone while the rhododendron and azaleas are on the way to horticultural heaven. Shari just brought in a single peony, the first of the season. One of a patch that grows near the rapidly spreading wild iris. It will go into a bud vase to decorate the dining room table.
An eagle circled high over the pond a few days ago. It perched for a few minutes on the highest branch of the tallest tree next to the pond. Regal in its brief visit, it surveyed the area and fled. Slumming, I suppose. Effete snob.
Not to be upstaged, a large red taii hawk dropped in a day later and took station in a low hemlock next to the pond. I suspect that both harbored a yen for one of the large grass carp who lurked temptingly beneath the surface. However, even a bird of this stature would probably have found a fish of such size difficult cargo.
The carp is, in fact, a redoubtable foe. Beneath the placid surface of the pond, perpetual conflict rages between it and its fleeting food source. The illusive marine vegetation. The carp is the general victor.
Neither the eagle nor the hawk can match the fishing prowess of the great blue heron. One of whom has just flown overhead and landed at the back of the pond as I write this. It will fish the edges of the pond until it has had its fill. Noblesse oblige.
On the other end of the scale, the hummingbirds have been busy patrons of our hanging baskets. And two Carolina wrens are building nests in the begonia pots that hang on the porch. As with last year, the wrens will probably win the contest for pot space before the fledglings fly. And the forlorn remains of the begonia will struggle back to health by mid-summer. Given lots of water and Shari’s TLC.
A family of coyotes whined their way through the stream bed near the house one night a week ago. Their eerie cry a warning call to scurrying nocturnal critters.
Our first fawn of the year made its spotted appearance yesterday morning. It followed its mother on a romp through the front yard. They returned for an encore last evening. And a buck grazed by an our ago. They’re now clothed in the striking red garb of summer.
Our dinner was interrupted a couple of evenings ago by a very large bear. Somewhere in the 350-400 pound range. He clearly had his mind on the bird feeder he had massacred a year ago. And strewn its sad innards up the driveway. He briefly meandered a few feet from the house. Finding the feeder no longer there, he left in apparent disgust. I have attached a picture, taken a couple of years ago, of the bear of interest. An apparent repeat offender.
Local critters have emerged from their various winter shelters by now. Except those who have been left behind by the years during winter. One wonders if they’re missed, these furred family elders. Or mourned. We know that geese will mourn a lost family or mate for years. Dogs have been known to lie on a lost master’s grave. And we see videos of how elephants will loiter over and mourn a fallen family member. Do all critters do the same in their own way? Victims of predator critters? Or the evil homo sapiens? Errant drivers? What about old Walt Weasel lying in flat repose out there on the center line of Rt 28?
I’ll ask.
