Animals of the Day

Here is Shop Cat, the ginger Scottish Fold who patrols the auto service in the industrial complex across the way.  I was able to get a clear photo of him today which does justice to his good looks and unique air of command.

If you missed Shop Cat's story, scroll down a few posts and read all about him.

Several deer crossed the yard just at sunset, pulling bits of hay from the stack of bales which belong to Pebbles the Horse.  One by one the larger deer jumped the pasture fence.  Last summer's fawn hesitated for a moment, then sailed over to join the group.  The pink reflection is from a geranium in the window.

The Weather Report

We were up by 6:15 this morning as J. was invited to drive to Denver, Colorado with his twin brother.  They intend to spend two days strolling around a Ritchie Bros auction. Their 12 year old g-nephew has gone along to keep them in line. 

As I sipped my coffee, looking sleepily toward the bird feeder, I caught sight of a doe under the disheveled branches of a willow on the far side of the pond. I hurried for my camera, while J. called excitedly, "Her fawn is on this side of the pond.." The morning was so grey/white that the flash activated creating a blur on the window.  The fawn hung about, probably eating the cracked corn our renter has been putting out. This is my only decent snap of it.

Charlie decided to entertain us by performing up on the kitchen area ledge. Doesn't he appear hulking and ferocious?  [He is really a clown.]

Charlie comes down a level to the top of the fridge in order to converse with J.

With Charlie back on the ledge, J. prods him gently with the broom handle. Charlie's daughter, Jemima, loves to race along the edge "meowing" loudly. This is but one example of why we are wary of displaying collectables.  The cats' territory has few boundaries.

By noon the sun broke through, but, oh dear, it is cold. The weather page forecast today's high as a minus 4. I drove to town at 2PM, tires squeaking on the frozen packed snow. The digital thermometer outside the pet supply store read 2 degrees above zero.  When I left the shop at 5:15, the parking lot was nearly dark, and my car's windshield was frosted. Huddled shivering over the steering wheel, I started the engine, and observed that the outside temp read-out on the dash was a minus 1. By the time I reached the stoplight on the edge of town the reading was minus 5, and as I crested the hill it dipped to minus 9. [For UK readers, remember this is Fahrenheit temps.  Using an online Fahrenheit to Celcius converter, I find that our "9 below zero" works out to a minus 22 C. ]

 I struggled in with sacks of cat food and litter, my spoils of several warm sweaters from the second hand shop, the mail. With each trip into the kitchen the cats inquired if I was ready to dish up their tea. Telling them to be patient, I pulled on my Carhartt bibs, snow boots, yanked a ridiculous fleece hat down to my eyebrows, layered on a vest.  All this merely to walk to the pasture fence and put several pads of hay in Pebbles' feed bin. J. took down the electric fence which has penned her into her "starvation lot" for the past six weeks. The grass is long dead and now covered with snow, so it seems safe to allow her a greater range. I had to call several times before she could tear herself away from the lower pasture and her long postponed gossip with the horses kept in an adjoining lot.

Back inside to switch on the kettle, feed the cats.  I don't want to know how cold it is outside now!

SIL phoned to tell me he was forwarding his best deer photos of the day. This buck was with his tribe on Mortimore Lane.  M. on a service call, took these through the van window.

When the buck had cleared the fence and loped a safe distance into the pasture on the other side of the road, he turned back as if to taunt M. by his dramatic get-away.

The Daily Deer

At the right of the photo, do you see the antlers of the third deer?
Strolling past the pond

An impressive head of horns

Eating leaves

He has a challenging glint in his eyes

The deer are spending the summer ranging over the property. At best count there are 5 buck, a doe and a fawn. Most often lately we see this group of three buck. They are mule deer. At 5:30 this morning they were wandering around the house, stopping to pull leaves from the small trees near the guest cabin. The photos I took through the windows were a gloomy blur as the flash went off and reflected on dusty rain-streaked glass.

Later the trio trouped by again. I took several photos through the picture window, then went quietly out through the garage to get a better view. Two of the deer seemed untroubled by my presence. The big fellow was very alert and was becoming more suspicious by the moment as I inched my way closer. I could hear J. warning me from the garage, "They can move a lot faster than you can." The buck stood poised with one hoof raised, eyeing me, and I decided I had ventured close enough.

It was interesting to note that when the deer bent to browse, their furred antlers looked nearly like the tall fuzzy brown weed stalks.

A constant conflict roils within me regarding the deer. I love to watch them. I wish they would spare my struggling flowers. [They ate the pansies and violas in the porch planters over the weekend.] I flinch when I see one dead on the side of the road, I wouldn't want to shoot one. And yet.....I have cut up fresh venison for the freezer, cooked and eaten it. My husband doesn't hunt, but our son and son-in-law are hunters as is our grandson.

These are troublesome and beautiful creatures. We encroach on each others' space. The deer can't understand that the roses are not planted for them to nibble.

Grandson had his own encounter with the big fellow on Saturday. He had gone down the path to the barn. When he came back up through the marshy meadow he found the buck barring his way. The buck didn't "shoo"--he stood with that un-nerving stare, not exactly threatening, but holding his ground, unpredictable. Grandson punched in the house number on his trusty cell phone and he and the deer stood glaring at one another until parental reinforcements arrived, crashing through the cat tails, and Mr. Buck decided to retreat.

I suppose if I can figure out that new camera with twice the zoom power I can spy on the deer from a safe and respectable distance.