Squirrels ran around in town, much to the distration of Lady as the family's mutt and I rambled off this morning.
As well they should have, time changed last night and it was near dawn as set forth.
I am a big fan of the fall time change when an hour is added. Or seemingly added.
A robin chirped to the east along the side rail as we crossed from the town to the wildness of the town pond. A crow cawed to the west on the other side of the big road.
God, I love rambling into the dawn, again. One advantage of the time change.
And dawn truly came, spectacularly I would add, as we approached the town pond.
Canada geese were on both old clay pits. I made a rough estimate of three dozen on the north pit and four dozen on the south pit.
Usually there is far more on the north pit, which is more open and shallower than the south pit.
Three mallards, first ducks in a long time, exploded from the northeastern edge of the geese on the north pit.
Once again, a great blue heron flapped off, low over the water, from under the bridge over the neckdown between the two pits. That is something I have noticed for years, that a heron sets up under the bridge in late October to early December, depending on the weather. Must be something in the change that brings fish shallow there.
There are things that people do that just get under my skin.
As we neared the bridge, i noticed some gray things flopped around on the gravel road. At first I thought somebody had dropped a bag of big fillets of bluegill and redears.
But as I got closer, I realized they were slices of bread. They were moldy. I am not talking spotted moldy, but so moldy it looked like burnt toast. What kind of asshole drops off moldy bread for the ducks and geese?
Seriously, what kind of asshole?
As an exercise for my tabulating skills, I counted the geese. There were 29 on the orth pit and 56 on the south pit. Over-estimated the north pit ones, under-estimated the south pit ones.
That is why biologists ask if you actually counted when someone reports seeing thousands of geese on local retention ponds.
So as I enjoyed the dozens of hedge apples strewn around the east side of the south pit, I noticed another kind of asshole had stuck his empty coffee cup from the local Shell station on a branch.
Seriously? He or she could carry in a cup of coffee, but are too much of an asshole litterer to carry it all of maybe 30 yards back to the trash can by the bridge.
I swear there are mornings I wonder about humanity. ``Oh, the humanity.'' BTW, that famous quote came from WLS' Herb Morrison's report from the crash and burning of the Hindenburg in 1937.
Once again, I digress.
A robin flew off from the south side of the south pit. Not sure if it was the same one we heard earlier or not.
Back in town, a block from home, three gray squirrels ran around the burr oaks on the corner. Much to Lady's distraction.
As we turned to go up our front steps, I counted three gray squirrels and one black one to the west down the street.
A fine new time falls in.