The Jungle Out There

A lot of things go on around here that I am not fully aware of. I see more evidence than activity. I hear things more than I see them.

This morning the ravens were making a terrible ruckus. They are chatty to begin with. This was loud and obnoxious. They were making a big stink about something. I figured they may have spotted the resident owl who hoots in the night or found a resting hawk to harass. It went on for five minutes before they finally shut up.

I found some daffodil bulbs dug up this morning. That is unusual even though some varmint has been incessantly digging holes in the Great Lawn and surrounding paths for the last two months. Did it eat the tulip bulbs that were there and discard the daffodils? Damn Varmints! This evening I found some of my freshly planted liatris tubers dug up. Damn Varmints!

At least the digger only makes small holes and rarely digs anything up that wasn't just planted in the last few days.

There are a couple spots in the Lush by the front porch that always look like something has been sleeping in there and tossing and turning the entire time. I think that is Button playing with his chew toys. Butterflies on liatris are also fair game. Some squashing is involved.

I have seen a groundhog three times now. Twice down in the sunny utility meadow dining on the Greenheaded Coneflower, Rubeckia laciniata. At least he left some to bloom.

This week I saw him scurry off a dung pile and watched as Miss Collar sort of chased after it.

The turkeys have been here a lot of late scratching the peck out of great swaths of the garden. The slope below the scenic byway looks like someone came in with a blower and pushed all the leaf litter down the hill. They ventured into the sunny utility meadow and started pecking there. As long as they don't dig a dust bath pit, I can live with the pecking.

Wild red drumsticks are covered in bumblebees. I see that because once they land they seem to stay put for very long periods of time. Something about the angelica must be mesmerizing.

When I walk into the roadside vegetable garden it is quite possible to flush a flock of gold finches feeding on the sunflowers. They like the chicory a lot too. I go to look at the ironweed and check on the fine produce to see what is ready for harvest.

Miss Collar did not come home for her dinner/roll call when I came home today. She did not come when I called and I know how to make my voice heard by rolling it through the valley and over the mountain.

It was raining again, near dark, and Miss Collar was still not home. I had called for her several more times. I was getting worried. What were those ravens making such a racket about this morning?  I went looking where the noise had been coming from. No evidence to be seen. Has Miss Collar been swallowed up by the forest like her mother and brother?

Finally she showed up just before dark, wet, her face covered with a black smudge and is that a limp? She must have gotten herself in some kind of scrape. She checked out ok, no cuts or signs of pain when being examined. There seemed to be some missing dignity. I'd wager on a tussle with a turkey.

It's a jungle out there and I don't know the half of what is going on around here in my absence.