Into The Trees

There was a frightful racket in the trees out behind us early this morning. I stumbled out of bed to see what was going on. From the window, I could see crows circling one particular pine tree, flapping their wings and squawking like fishwives. What was their problem? Didn't they know it was Sunday morning and people might want to sleep in, for heaven's sake?

And then I saw him.



The cause of their distress. A huge big owl, sitting on a high branch, imperturbable, while the crows circled and squawked. I grabbed the OC's field glasses and headed out to have a closer look.

The picture isn't very clear, but enough, I think, to give you the general idea. He could have had those crows for lunch. He just wasn't hungry. He certainly didn't look under-nourished! I watched through the glasses while he groomed himself. He looked like a baby bear sitting up there, confident that when he did feel a pang of hunger, there was a smorgasbord of little rodents available for the snatching in the brush down below. He lifted a leg at one point, and when I saw those massive talons, I was glad I wasn't a little rodent......



I've been making snails' trails blocks for a quilting project. I need to make forty of them [I know---what on earth was I thinking??] I've been a little obsessive about reaching number forty, sewing, sewing, day and night. Not healthy. Hunched over the sewing machine, muttering.....bubble, bubble, toil and trouble, 15, 16, 17, 18, ......[I got to #24 today!] So, to blow the cobwebs from my brain, I went along on a Little White Balls hitting expedition later in the afternoon.

I have a limited capacity for concentrating on watching people hitting Little White Balls, so it wasn't too long until my attention wandered.

This fellow helped.



He was up a nearby tree, chattering like a thing possessed, so I went to investigate. He looked down at me indignantly and launched into a long and involved rant, with much tail twitching and bristling of whiskers. He was very upset at having his peaceful afternoon shattered by men arriving to hit Little White Balls.
He'd been in the middle of a lovely nap when the first whack disturbed his slumbers.



"Don't you people have homes to go to?"




"It's Sunday afternoon, for Pete's sake! You'd think a fellow could take a little nap without having to worry he'll be whacked out of his tree by lunatics hitting Little White Balls!"

And so it goes.

The circle of Life.