10.3.15 It's been blessedly rainy, and relatively cold

for a few days now, the ground getting a much needed dunking to buffer all trees and bushes and plants from damage that comes in a cold snap during winter. The overcast skies bringing out the color in all wetted wildflowers, all slowly turning leaves. Wandering down the Eagle Sanctuary road early this morning, I look out across the small mountain range to see the hints of change, spotted vague  purples and oranges just beginning to make themselves known.

     I throw his ball, as I pull my scarf close about my throat, as I hear the cranky voices of crew coaches, that carry far across the fields, past the thick line of trees upon the fogged in river.

     Off in the distance, near the sanctuary, one small eagle, yet not a juvenile as it's head and tail are bright bright white, flies from river to nearby field, and silently lands. So i turn, and give them their privacy and early morning ease, leading the big boy bag down the path.

      The telephone lines are dotted with a small Starling flock, with peripatetic Sparrow, and a few families of Swallows, their forked tails and blue selves with white bellies bright in the wet early hours. The Starlings all agree to take off as one, about forty of them, synchronized flight as they undulate this way and that.

        Only yesterday and today has come the call and beginning migration of Canadian Geese, and so now a group of maybe 30 rise up above the river, calling each to each, the young ones in a long line at the end, struggling to keep up, their smaller bodies and wings something to behold.

       Along the road this morning is Coyote scat (too large to be smaller animal, to wild to be dog, and there are no loose dogs here) and fox scat- smaller, rather green/grey, too large to be Raccoon or Possum. All along the drying fields are the freshly made pathways of the mammals from last night, such beautiful tunnels that would make a Bower Bird yearn.

      Dante sniffs scat, tunnels, and slowly comes to an understanding of our neighbors, as we make our way past the hardy vegetable garden of neighbors, the squash lying upon the ground  until someone has time to come pick them up.

        Far across the road, the dairy farm is bustling, with vehicles and tractors pulling this and pushing that about, as they confine one group of cows and let another group out. They are the only dairy around here that keeps more cows than they have pasture for, so its only in summer that they are let out of small pens, to run and romp and play and delight in the few days of fresh grass, before heading back to their enclosures.

       I pick a Milkweed to bring back to my Monarch caterpillar, who seems happy enough chowing down on Rue, but possibly just hatched somewhere with little of their preferred food.

        As the rain picks up, the wind grows stronger, I pull my hat down over my ears, and head us back home.