They're Baaack

Animal Spottings

Today about four or five deer showed up in the yard, after an absence of a few months. Our Steller's Jays returned two days ago, and they're already coming when I whistle to get peanuts, or sitting on the BBQ, staring in the house begging for them.

The starlings, robins, mourning doves, flickers, hairy woodpeckers, Oregon races, nuthatches and chickadees have been here a few weeks, and the other day we saw an Evening Grosbeak for the first time.

For a few weeks now we've been finding the daily newspaper fluttering on the ground instead of in the delivery box. I didn't know if it was from the wind, dogs, a sloppy delivery guy, or someone with an axe to grind. I tried setting up a webcam to catch them in the act, but the webcam has been finicky and hasn't recorded anything of use.

This morning I woke up shortly before seven. Usually when I do that I turn over and go back to sleep until eight, at which time I saunter the dozen feet to my office and start work. Today I got up and parked myself on the couch where I could keep an eye on the newspaper box. There was a beautiful crescent moon between the treetops, illuminated brightly by the not-quite-dawning sun. The street was quiet.

At about seven fifteen, I spotted two short little gnome shapes with peaked hoods ambling down the opposite side of the street in their boots and backpacks. As they passed the box I thought false alarm but lo, they stopped and one of them crossed the street, pulled out our paper, separated it into sections and began to tear sections in half.

I raced out in my bathrobe and bare feet, stopped him in his tracks and made him put the newspaper back together. He was a little blond-haired neighbor boy about five or six years old. I told him if I caught him doing it again I'd tell his parents. We'll find out tomorrow if he resumes his wicked ways.

Connie wondered why he was abusing our newspaper. I wondered the same thing. We've never done anything to him or his family. But I recall when I was that age. A boy's mind tends to mischief, for reasons that elude even him. You can ask why, but the answer, if any is given, can't be relied upon. It's a boy thing.


Posted by Dave    Blog Tag: Chatter