THE CRITTERS OF SPRING

The next bunch of posts are continuations of NINE DAYS OFF, which started in May around Memorial Day 2018. So you will be taken back to late spring and Summer, which was a real bear this year. To prove it, I present the bear below.

The wooly bear caterpillar is  a predictor of the weather, or so say the old-timers. If, in fall, the black sections, usually at both head and tail, are particularly large with a small area of orange in the middle, it indicates an early freeze followed by a lot of cold, then turning to a mid-winter warm-up followed by a frigid late winter. If it is nearly all black, you'll not remove your long underwear ever, including during bathing. So it was in 2015. Go back if you want to see what Cold looks like.

I didn't believe this when I first arrived, but I'm sold now. And the bear above is a perfect example. This was taken in April, which was cold enough to have two small snowstorms last year. This bear predicts a very hot summer followed by an early winter and practically no fall. And though our summer was a bit hot, never topping 93, the humidity was high enough (70% and higher for four months) to make everyone miserable, especially me. I HATE the heat, and high humidity makes me sluggish and cranky, especially when it interrupts my Farm Restoration Schedule. And this was NOT a year for delays.

My five-year balloon note to the Izbicki Family was due on November eighth, and though they certainly didn't want the house back, neither did they want to be stiffed for over sixty thousand bucks. So I had a LOT of work to do through the summer to insure a decent appraisal and keep any inspectors happy.

And yes, the wooly bear is not necessarily a predictor of humidity, but it did warn me. And it was right.

This is also what convinced me to finish the flying beam system in the attic before the real heat set in and to move the remaining summer operations inside.

My hummingbird feeder outside the kitchen window. Usually frequented by a few female ruby-throats and one dominant male that drives virtually all the others off, I found it different this spring.

A few girl birds check it out, keeping a wary eye for the male.

 A few more join them.

A whole gaggle of girl birds show up, and to my ultimate surprise, after a confrontation or two, the male is driven away by the females. Maybe this really WILL be the Year of the Woman!

The girl birds settle in.

Holy hell! There's an awful lot of them! And they choose to share rather than compete.

Some squabbling occurs when there's not enough spaces, but no single bird takes over. Hmmmm….

I decide to pull the other feeder from the attic and load it with sugar water, putting it in front of the living room window twenty feet away. I never did this before, as the male simply took over both feeders to where the ants and yellowjackets were the only one besides HIM to get any sugar water. Typical male. Both feeders are inundated with girl birds. The males stay the hell away.

I ain't NEVER seed this befoah!

And it would continue all summer.

The dwawgs, when not sleeping in cool dirt outside, take refuge in the fireplace, cleaned out specifically so they can enjoy the brick hearth. Marley takes it over, being the hottest-natured.

They continue to bring me treats. Apparently I'm not eating enough.

This young possum might have made a good meal, but I'm just not that crazy about stewed possum. I keep thinking about Pogo. Also about how disgusting possums really are. I fed it to something in the woods.

 

Speckle claims the Dog Deck.

Marley, satisfied that Dad has enough to eat with her Possum Offering, digs a hole in the moist dirt and occupies it.