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Well, to paraphrase the (alleged) ancient Chinese proverb, we “live in interesting times” around the pond these days. Two days ago we were watching a beautiful doe grazing at pond side opposite the porch. While we were distracted, a female bear and her two cubs quietly slipped by 20’ behind us. We managed to get a photograph of mom, but all three bears scooted into the woods so quickly that we missed the twins altogether. They’ll be back. Che sera.

Two days ago, Hurricane Isaia gasped its last as it spun its way across the Northeastern US. All day torrents of wind driven rain caused serious damage and flooding up the entire east coast. The pond is now full to overflowing and the nearby waterfall rages over its banks. However, the storm abated in late afternoon. So the Hideaway critters remain muddy but unbowed.

As the sky cleared, a soggy sun appeared. I was reading on the porch when a bobcat skittered by on the outside deck next to my chair. It was gone almost as soon as it appeared. The same guy, I’m sure, who pulled a similar disappearing act about a month ago. Unfortunately, my lovely bride was elsewhere at the time, so I have no witnesses. Thus, I’ve attached a professional photo for the reader’s interest and to validate my modest familiarity with the stealthy critter. Bobcats are very shy and seldom seen, by the way. And a genuine treat to the eye.

Speaking of my lovely bride, she is dealing with some post partum sadness since our Carolina wrens left us with an empty nest. It was fun having them as neighbors and their song was lovely. The tuberous begonias, kind enough to share their hanging basket with the wrens, are no doubt pleased to see them gone. Three’s a crowd in the horticultural world. And one begonia is now hanging at a perilous angle from the rim of the pot. But we can hear the wrens singing nearby in celebration of their newfound post-nesting freedom. As are the cardinals, finches and other avian neighbors now free of their own parental obligations. Carpe diem, little friends.

Still on the subject of birds, our juvenile eagle paid us another visit this morning. Attached is a photo of his royal high–ness on a lofty perch atop the branch of a large maple near the ledge. Difficult to get a photo worthy of its regal eagleness from that distance. Hopefully, the avian gods will forgive us just this once.

Now that summer has reached full maturity, cicadas are joining the critter chorus. Cicadas. During my callow youth, the dreaded harbinger of school’s impending return. Then, after one’s romp in the Elysian fields of June and July, August seemed to fade as quickly as a summer suntan. The prospect of trading bare feet for books chafed. Painfully.

Speaking of fading, a pink, blue and gray sunset is now quietly ushering out another beautiful Catskill summer evening. And, totally by surprise, two 6 point bucks have begun to graze near the ledge. (Honest) Mother Nature’s magic. A very cool lady.

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Another hot blue day over Hideaway Pond. Ragged white clouds ambled slowly south with a light breeze. Hardly a quiver on the surface of the pond, the airspace above which was abuzz with damselflies and their bloodthirsty cousins, dragon flies.

Both are members of the order odanata. Bet you were dying to know. Among their normal prey are mosquitoes, gnats, mites, mayflies, etc. Yum. An unwary odanata makes a quick snack for a bird, frog, lizard and their ilk. And their ilks’ ilks. Odanata have been around for three million years or so. That’s ancient, even in bug years. And they both begin life as an egg. Don’t we all. Hopefully, that’s where the similarity ends. Because from eggs, they become nymphs, evil voracious little beasts that live submerged and eat anything within in reach. Brutally. And remain in that form for as long as 5 years. They don’t pupate (pardon me). That is, make cocoons. They go straight from the nymph phase to becoming damsel flies or dragon flies, depending on their entomological persuasion. A wayward female damsel fly can make whoopee with a variety of mates before laying eggs. Sheesh. “Who’s your daddy?” And the process is beyond bizarre. Love aloft. Affair in the air? Never mind. I’ve included an x-rated illustration below. Please escort small children from the room. And don’t try this at home.

On a less bloodcurdling front, we were delighted by a visit from two beautiful six point bucks (one with eight point aspirations) during breakfast this morning. They suddenly appeared on a point opposite the island and grazed along the pond edge until they reached the porch. Following that, they trotted past the porch and loitered in the front yard before ambling up the driveway, across the road and into the woods beyond.

It’s been a busy day around the pond. The sun now sets behind Overlook Mountain as last night’s waxing moon, somewhat larger now, has returned. And night settles quietly on Hideaway Pond. Crickets.

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Typical late July weather around the Hideaway. Hot. Very hot. And humid. Cloudless blue morning skies have turned moist and hazy with scattered afternoon clouds. Brief showers have occasionally spattered the surface of the pond as small swirls of haze spiraled upward, the pond’s cool surface having condensed moisture in the heated air above.

Weather aside, we’ve suddenly found ourselves to be empty nesters. Our Carolina wrens have fled. Those little critters that could barely be seen poking their minute heads out of the nest a week ago, were served their farewell meal and took wing. All within about an hour, as we watched. Mom returned to the nest with a worm following their departure. Apparently confused, she flew away, faced with the eternal conundrum that eventually faces all of us. What does one do with an unused worm?

Two does, each with a pair of twins, have made regular evening visits. They prefer to take their meal on the strip of grass between the pond and the ledge. At times they will wade near the porch and graze on pond side vegetation. Either way, they provide pleasant dinner time entertainment. No cover charge.

Two days ago, a bear wandered into the yard from the woods near the driveway. He stopped for a brief snack from the crab apple tree. Cutting it short, he strolled qickly past the porch and into the woods beyond. Even bears, it seems, have obligations.

This afternoon, a great blue heron suddenly appeared through a break in the trees. It flared out and settled on the opposite side of the island. There, it disappeared for the day, apparently preferring to purloin our small finned friends in private. Noblesse oblige.

Day’s end. A pink and gray sunset closes in the western sky. The quiet little critters of Hideaway Pond settle in as the Catskill Mountain air cools. And night ushers in a waxing moon. Peace.

Please forgive the graininess of some of the photos. Many were taken through a window screen.

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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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A cloudless blue sky hovers over Hideaway Pond this morning. No serious critter action yet. At least not of the mammalian persuasion. However, the bass have been leaping from their liquid lair since sunrise. Their prey must be very small. It’s invisible to me from my vantage point on the porch. The dragon flies, their annual nemeses, have yet to swarm in. The bass have no natural predators in the pond except their parents. Being cannibalistic, mom & dad consume many of their offspring as small bass children. Over zealous tough love, if you ask me. But bass will be bass. The grass carp are vegan and sterile *sob*. Boring company too, I imagine. So they’re not a threat. Thus the little guys must be leaping for either midges or for joy at their survival. I’ll guess the latter.

But I digress from the original purpose of this blog entry. It’s that time of year when our little sylvan secret is most fraught with critter activity. Proud parents move about showing off their new offspring and searching for food. Catching their digital images can be a challenge. Too distant, too fast, too active, too proud or busy to pose, etc. Or we happen to be closer to a sandwich than a camera. But sometimes things work. Attached are pictures of a young four point buck who dropped in last evening. He was gentlemanly enough to favor us with a few poses before moving on.

Ecco.

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 A warm front bought dark low hanging clouds racing southward during the past week. They dumped barrels of water on the Hideaway as they passed. The pond is overflowing its small spillway and the nearby waterfall is in full throated roar.

The Hideaway critters have since been blessed by several idyllic days of bright blue sunny skies. A recent mowing threw copious amounts of grass into the pond. Stirred by that and the recent deluge, the grass carp indulged themselves in a fit shameless gluttony. A large snapping turtle skulked nearby, glum disapproval written on his stony face. Not a sunny physiognomy in the first place.

The usual inventory of critters has kept us entertained. (Needless of much creativity on their part.) A young buck has regularly shown up at sunset. He dines politely on pond side veggies near the porch. A four pointer sometimes deigns to share his antlered excellence with us also. Helps himself to our pond side salad bar without so much as a nod of appreciation. Dolt.

Two does, one with twins and another with a single fawn have been regular visitors. They usually drop by in the evening to graze near the ledge. Their young fawns charge about with the exuberance of-well–young fawns.

According to the critter grapevine, bears are on the move. Including some, as one would expect at this time of year, with cubs. Our own bear count so far this year is five. All male. We expect more visits as the hot weather draws them to the pond for a cold drink–perhaps a cool swim. So things in our little green enclave have settled into a comfortably sleepy routine.

Until last evening.

In early evening, a very large barred owl burst out of some nearby hemlocks and charged past the porch at warp speed. Meanwhile, a young buck was quietly grazing nearby. Before he had finished dessert, a doe with twins began to graze near the ledge. A second doe then emerged from the woods near the porch. She had with her twins who couldn’t have been more than 2 or 3 days old. They soon disappeared back into the woods. No doubt feeding time for the little guys.

And the grand finale. Two four pointers and one six point buck arrived together at sunset. Not greatly unusual for them to be together at this time of year. Nonetheless, a wonderful thing to see. They are all in velvet now. In five or six months, rutting season will arrive. They will have lost their velvet and their antlers will be fully developed. They will be prepared and eager at that time to compete over the first comely doe that catches their eye. Tough out there in critter city.

And to place an exclamation point at the end of the day, the barred owl flew quietly back into his hemlock grove. He will now spend much of the night sending his haunting call into the dark. His nocturnal kind will answer. Mother Nature never sleeps.

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Sunday. Things began quietly around the pond this week. A serene blue and green world. A light breeze barely disturbed the pond most of the time and a scattering of clouds slowly ambled south with a sustained cool front. Solstice is behind us now. Summer has slipped quietly into its place on the calendar. The iris and lilacs have closed their blossoms for the year, leaving wild flowers and clover to fend for themselves. A pair of Carolina wrens is raising a small family in one of our hanging begonia baskets. One might believe that Mother Nature had taken the quiet as an opportunity to settle down for a nap.

Not so. Things have been rife with critter activity all week. A doe and her twin fawns joined us for breakfast Tuesday morning. They grazed quietly on a grassy area near the ledge, oblivious of our presence. Nothing like a large catch of green weeds and daisies to begin ones day.

On Wednesday another doe and her single offspring waded at the back of the pond in the early afternoon. The trees and their reflections fringe the pond in that area. Their red summer garb stood out against the verdant green background. During late afternoon a solitary four point buck grazed near “Howe’s Bayou”, a nook in the shore opposite the island. A buck always seems to have regal command over everything around him. Even fellow critters appear awed in his presence. Perhaps it’s my imagination. Or perhaps I’m one of them.

A sticky warm front brought dark low hanging clouds on Thursday morning. A windless deluge turned the pond from black to mottled silver.

The rain did little to deter the critters from their normal routine. At sunset a velveted buck grazed on the edge of the pond to within 50 ft of the porch. Much to our surprise, he then moved into the woods behind the house and lay down, apparently for the night. Even deer become sleepy. Wonder if they dream? About what?

As darkness fell, a bobcat leaped from the woods, ran along the ledge and disappeared into the brush beyond. Illusive and solitary, bobcats are a thrill to see. And fast to disappear.

One might expect that Mother Nature had just about exhausted her magic wand of surprises. But a doe with a fawn, another with twins and, finally, two four point bucks soon laid that thought to rest. The does and their fawns shared pond side vegetation during the morning and early afternoon. The two bucks favored the Hideaway critters with their antlered excellence in the late afternoon. They grazed until sunset, reflection of the waning sun fading on their red coats. Then disappeared into the darkness. Flaunting their royal buckness to the very end.

Wouldn’t you?

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Another blazing scorcher on Hideaway Pond. Mother Nature has heat exhaustion and the Hideaway critters feel her pain. In air this hot and thin, even the butterflies need more runway to become airborne.

Before the thermometer flared this morning, a doe and her new fawn raced through the yard and into the woods across the road. Trying to outrun the heat, I suppose. It’s one of those days when super heated fields send swirling thermals aloft to give soaring raptors a lift. And when the old timers of my Allegheny Mountain youth were inspired to claim that they saw a dog chasing a cat. And they were both walking. Really.

It all matters little to four tiny Carolina wrens. They’re hard at work building nests in the two hanging baskets of tuberous begonias located under the eaves of the porch. Only ten feet away, we have the joy of watching the action and listening to their evening songs.

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Hot. Very hot. Summer has burned its way into a searing blue sky. A hot breath of convection lifts a few leaves on the crimson maple near the porch. Nothing else disturbs the over heated silence. The world suspended in a hot petalite crystal.

The Hideaway critters lie low and the birds have grounded themselves. No Icarus they. Cervidaens of all ages are in absentia, no doubt exulting in the moist green shade of some sylvan enclave. Burrow dwellers such as our local groundhog, Chuck, are in their cool dark burrows. And the squirrels chase each other in slow motion.

It was on a day like this last year that we were visited by Barry. a very large bruin. He was seeking a cold drink and a cool swim in the pond. We were happy to accommodate. Barry was so named by my lovely bride, Shari. The Greek Goddess of Appellations.

Evening, and a family of coyotes cries from the small creek that lies down the hill from the pond. Their song will soon be joined by that of the barred owl who queries us every evening with his call. “Who cooks for yoooo. Who cooks for yoooo?”

A large buck has grazed at pond side during each of the last two evenings. Two small does have followed in his path at night fall. Their red coats shine in the twilight. A Joe Hautman painting.

And as we were having dinner at sunset this evening, we were gifted with a genuine treat. Two six point bucks suddenly appeared near the porch at the edge of the pond. We watched them graze until they faded into the dark.

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Monday. A persistent northerly cold front brought with it bright skies and wind scattered clouds late last week. It pushed before it a dark overcast and a brief interlude of heavy windless rain, turning the surface of the pond into a vision of hammered pewter. A shy sun returned for the weekend.

Mother Nature’s late spring mood swings seem to have inspired in the Hideaway critters a spate of frenetic activity.

On the feathered front, some small birds of unidentified lineage have moved into our long vacant duck house. Perhaps they’re as baffled by the question of their parentage as we are. We fear for their safety, as my lovely bride has spotted a large black snake nearby. Che sera. Every drama needs a villain.

And a pair of Carolina wrens has made a home in one of our hanging begonia baskets. Another family of eggs that will hatch with an identity crisis. Watering, of course, will be an existential issue for our small bird children. Hopefully, they won’t take root.

A great blue heron, or “Harry”, as it’s known in local circles, dropped gracefully in with today‘s sunrise. It fished from shore near the ledge. It then tried its luck from the island. Not sure whether it had any luck. It wouldn’t have told the truth anyway. We all know that fishermen hone exaggeration with the precision of a diamond cutter.

A final bird word. Much to our surprise, a solitary female mallard splashed down in mid-morning. She’s well behind the published migration train schedules. Perhaps she and her missing mate were victims of the treacherous duck hunters who lurk behind their blinds across the Hudson Valley.

Several does have been sauntering suggestively around the area. They generally wade along the edges of the pond as they graze. A pair of neighborhood bucks seem oblivious. I guess the buckian strategy is to wait until rutting season when they are fully geared for antlered action. So to speak.

As evidence of last year’s ribald ruttery, a doe dropped in last Friday to introduce us to her new fawn. Not to be out done, another showed up on Saturday with twins. The responsible bucks, notorious dead beat dads, were elsewhere.

And the male bears roam about. A large guy strolled down the road in front of the house this afternoon. Another crossed “the strip” at the back of the pond on Friday. Both are in the 350-400 pound heavyweight class. Though I would discourage close range verification. Two slightly smaller models loped, (and bears lope–at about 30mph), one along the ledge and another past the porch, yesterday. We eagerly await the moms and their cubs.

As I write this, our velveted four point buck has emerged from the woods and begun to graze on the pond side greenery near the porch. Sunset lights his rust red summer finery. What better way to greet evening.

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