One day when I was lying on the grass under this tree, the red-shoulder landed on a dead branch very close by. She didn't know I was there. The branch broke under her weight and that hawk sprang straight up in the air flapping like mad. I laughed 'til my stomach hurt. It's fun to see such commandeering, graceful, powerful creatures look silly sometimes.
I would love to see the owl who left this whitewash on an old stone. I can only imagine the creatures who people the cemetery at night.
I saw the first tiny fawn prints, along with its mother's tracks, in early July. The pockmarks are raindrops. This photo doesn't look like much, until you see how tiny they are next to my hand.
Yes. That's a fawn the size of Chet Baker, maybe smaller. I imagined it tottering through the mud behind its mama.