Antics and Agony

Turned out another lovely pre-fall day. Close to freezing last night, and tardy in warming up, but once it did, pleasant beyond complaint. We set off for the ravine a tad earlier than usual, and wore light jackets against the chill, but soon left it behind as we chugged along. Some of the underbrush had already turned colour, ready to shrivel and dive into winter mode. We had our little stump-tail squirrel meet us at the foot of the first hill, and tossed him the first of what turned out to be three peanuts.

The first he took down to the creek and buried it just above the waterline, something we've seen him do before. The second he deigned to eat, then and there. We stood, watching him, Button and Riley paying no mind, their attention turned elsewhere, and then we tossed him a third peanut. Upon which a tiny red squirrel appeared out of nowhere and, ignoring the presence of peanuts we'd left in all manner of other regular places, undertook to chase Stumpy. Which it did, relentlessly, but Stumpy had no intention of relinquishing his peanut.

Along the way throughout our hour's ramble, there were other little regulars who met us at the usual peanut caches, and they're a delight to see, to witness their eagerly brave approach, knowing peanuts have been left behind for them. When we left a handful of shelled and unshelled peanuts in the broad crotch of the old willow tree, roughly two-thirds of the way through our daily circuit, there were two squirrels, a black and a grey one awaiting our arrival. After leaving the offerings and heaving ourselves up the hill alongside, we stopped to watch two other black squirrels intervene to take their share.

The passage through the trails, the changing landscape, with birds flitting through the trees - too swiftly for us to identify them - and the myriad numbers of newly-hatched iridescent-red dragonflies presents us with unparalleled satisfaction and entertainment. We feel privileged, as indeed we most certainly are, and prepare ourselves for a good day. Striding along the trails, we're refreshed, re-invigorated, happy to be alive to experience nature's generosity and utter control of our environment.

Fall will come as it must, and all the growing things that we now see in the ravine will be further transformed as the undergrowth continues to shrivel, as the sap begins to descend to the roots in preparation for winter's rest period, and the leaves turn colour and drop, sometimes seeming, in a fall wind, like confetti blessing the ground around us.