9.6.15 Later this morning, we were up on the High Hadley Fields, the fog lifted

Later this morning, we were up on the High Hadley Fields, the fog lifted, the world on its way into its day. With a small wind and the sun's warmth upon our skin and fur, we wandered down the rutted dirt road, with vast protected fields on either side, enjoying the expanse, as he raced from one side into the field, over to the other, with customary young dog delight.

                       And as cars intermittently passed on by on their Sunday ways, we would stop, putting him into a sit/stay, with the morsel of frozen meat in my (ugh) palm, as people slowed to gaze at the young black Shepherd, calling out kind things and admiring things, as I stood there hoping he would not look over at them and erupt into some ferocious fearful something.

                      But not, the power of the force of the frozen meat held, and he looked all well trained and sweet and lovely, bringing smiles to all, some of whom stopped on the broad high vacant road to inquire as to whether he was Belgian (no) or another breed (nope) and how very sweet and good he was (yeah, right now, sure.)

                     Too young and oblivious to preen as an older one would, he stayed focused upon the treats, upon the underbrush as we made our way into a low-tick shorn field, along the edges where the wild ones stroll, to protect themselves and to forage for smaller wild things, catching sight of numerous small caverns and passageways leading down to the murky late summer stream.

                       On our way back up the road, I caught sight of ten Turkey Vultures, some young and some adult, circling slowly far above. I stopped and watched peacefully, as the pup munched delicious grasses, as one young vulture separated from the spinning group, flew a distance away, and began their own spiraling. A few minutes later, another young one broke from the larger group, and joined the lone one, the two of them in their own spiral, until after a few more minutes, one by one, the other 7 dropped ship and sailed away, leaving one large lone Vulture in the original spiral, until they too took flight and joined the others. I thought to myself, yes, ok, this is how it sometimes works.

                      I turned to head back to the car, trudging up the beautiful dusty road, as an enormous Red Tail Hawk flew into the neighborhood, and began it's own solitary and languid turns, perhaps looking for a fat mouse far down upon the land, near us, who was out for a meander, and had forgotten what the tall skies can bring.

                     As we picked up our pace and the sun began to heat in earnest, in it's September ways, and we heading back on home.