It's been days since I have sat at this computer. I'm walking at 5 a.m. and doing my Bible readings and Morning Prayer on the porch. I spend as much time as I can on the porch or in the garden/yard this time of year. Rascal has never killed a bird. She brings me many a dead chipmunk, but birds fly around without her so much as twitching a whisker. However...
The weather has been perfect for sleeping and walking early in the morning: cold during the night, crisp at 5 a.m., then warming up by 6 a.m.
However, it hasn't been perfect for the gardens or wells or farmers. We desperately need rain. I water early when I have time, otherwise in the evening. My tomatoes are doing well, as are the peppers and anything else that had a good start before this dry spell; but seedlings burn up almost as fast as they come up, and many seeds just don't germinate.
Breakfast on the porch is a special joy to me. I love the cacophony of bird songs, the early morning light on my gardens, and the fresh fragrance of morning air. Evenings I enjoy the fountain and the little bench in my shady garden. We have a plethora of robins this year, and the other evening a real drama took place in my yard.
I was at the kitchen sink, when I noticed something fluttering on the trunk of the big split-leaf maple at the edge of my shady garden. I couldn't make out what it was, looking through the screen with my astigmatistic eyes. I stared for a few seconds, trying to identify it, when I noticed Rascal, in the yard, was also fixing her gaze on the object.
Suddenly, whatever it was fell into the shady garden and I was aware of several robins raising a noisy alarm. Then I knew it was a fledgling who wasn't quite ready to fly. I saw Rascal poised to get into her stalking and pouncing position, and I ran out to the porch, hollaring, "No, Rascal! No!" I got to her just in time for the fledgling to waddle hurriedly into the brush pile, and commenced to shoo Rascal away.
She would have none of it. She flattened herself into the ground, and I couldn't budge her. She looked back at me with such anger that I was just as glad I couldn't pick her up. She has never scratched anyone, but I was pushing it!
Meanwhile, the robins were going absolutely crazy. They were dive-bombing Rascal (and I was in their dive path), and scolding and screaming. I nudged Rascal, little by little, putting my hands under her fat bottom and pushing gently, adding to the noise with a continued, "Go away, Rascal, go away".
She got up and ran into the front yard orchard, and, after checking the environs near my shady garden and not seeing anything, I went back inside. In a couple minutes, the alarm was sounding again, and I hurried back to the door. There, on the porch, in the alert posture, was Rascal, and at the foot of the steps, not six feet away, was a robin, standing his ground and scolding with all his might. What a stand-off!
This time, I did pick up Rascal and bring her in the house. An hour later, when all was quiet, I let her out again. Rascal was angry at me the rest of the evening, switching her tail whenever I came near.
In which a drama is played out at the OK Corral...er, the yard in Far Eastern Park.
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