A rabbit was so intent on trying the old I-will-sit-so-still-they-will-not-see-me trick this morning that I walked within a leash length of it sitting in the yard south across the alley from the bus barn.
I am not sure the rabbit realized the peril it was in. If I had turned Lady, our family's mutt, loose, it might have been the end for the rabbit.
Maybe the darkness emboldened the rabbit. As we turn to fall, the dawn comes later and later,
It was nearly dark when Lady and I rambled off this morning, even though it was after 6 a.m.
That may explain the virtual lack of anything else living that was strirring.
Two great blue herons flew near the top of the trees--east to west--on the north shore of the north old clay pit.
It was an image so stark in the half dark before dawn that it reminded me of Oriental ink etchings of storks.
Consider the video my civic duty for the day, how to draw a stork.
Fish dimpled the surface of the north pit.
We usually only get a string of perfect fall weather like this--40s or 50s at night, 70's to brushing 80 days--when a hurricane twists across the Gulf of Mexico and slows all weather systems down.
Sounds like that patten is going to hold into next week. Remarkable.
Dawn was near as we reached the edge of town by the grain elevators. (Hello, Charles Demuth.)
Back on the edge of town, two morning doves flew around the grit area by the grain elevators.
A rabbit rustled out of a patch of dying, brown weeds by the switching box for the railroad.
Eleven cars and trucks filled the gravel area where the rail switch is. Guess the rail guys are working somewhere nearby.
Downtown, the chef/cook, who runs the food truck for migrant/nursery workers, was finishing loading his truck.
A lone dove bullet-flew down the alley behind the bus barn.
By the bur oaks a street over from home, a lone acorn pinged off the metal spouting of the corner house.
A lone blue jay squawked once down the street.