November. Queen mother of gloom. It’s cool today. Clammy and still, with dark, low hanging skies. The grumpy afternoon of a waning autumn.
A skim of dead leaves covers the pond. And the trees stand in barren nakedness. They have lost the annual battle with Mother Nature over the last of her beautiful leafy array. Again.
Critter action has slowed to a stop, Or nearly so. The squirrels have suddenly disappeared. Abandoned remaining acorns to the bugs and worms and entered their winter nests. A rabbit shelters beneath the porch. And the resident woodchuck will spend the winter in its den. They’ll occasionally venture out to forage. With a wary eye out for the pack of coyotes who whine their way along the icy stream down the hill.
Sows–female bears–are asleep in their caves. They await the annual “blessed event” of one or two–or more–cubs. Black bear males and females come together only during breeding season. Some bears, instead of hibernating, enter the semi-conscious state of torpor. Their heartbeats can decline to as few as 8 beats per minute. During this time, the cubs are born and nursed. Sows mate several times a season, so the poor little critters never know their dad. Ever see a bear with an identity crisis? Sad.
A barred owl has been loudly announcing its presence. It will stay home this winter with other birds of the season, Cardinals, blue jays, junkos, sparrows and the ilk. Though ilks are solitary and rarely seen.
A heron dropped in yesterday for a farewell feast from the Hideaway Seafood Ristorante. It will find pickings slim. Most of the inhabitants have already sunk into the cold dark deep. There, they’ll snooze away the winter at a cozy 35F degrees. The heron will fly south hungry.
Two beautiful six point bucks, a doe and her yearling fawn have been hanging around the Pond most of the summer. Little doubt that the youngster will soon be sent away. And the adults will return to the herd to engage in a little ruminant romance. Life is cruel. Especially during rutting season. Even more so for a yearling fawn.
The Hudson Valley and Catskill Mountains will be blessed early tomorrow morning by a full lunar eclipse. Early Indian tribes called a full lunar eclipse the blood moon because of its eerie blood red color.
A “blood moon” happens when Earth’s moon is in a total lunar eclipse. Lunar eclipses can only happen during a full moon, when the sun fully illuminates the surface.
The next blood moon will occur over the Hudson Valley and Catskills beginning at 5:16 AM tomorrow morning.
The eerily beautiful red light of the blood moon will bathe the Catskills early tomorrow morning until it moves west and gradually fades into daylight.