It’s not easy being a cat person in a canine world. Sitting on the porch while studying and occasionally letting my eyes and thoughts wander over to the lake or into the woods, I noticed the cats pouncing on butterflies.
Up on a cherry tree limb sat five doves, all in a row. They were barely discernible, being almost the same color as the scraggly limb and the bare trees behind them. With my phone, I took a photograph. By enlarging the photo with my fingers, I could barely make out the birds. It was like searching for Waldo, and if I hadn’t known the birds were there, I wouldn’t have seen them at all. How smart nature is to sometimes conceal itself.
Above me in a tall tree sat a fox squirrel barking and hollering. I had never witnessed a squirrel hollering though I had heard the sound many times and questioned Sam about it. He said, “It’s a squirrel.” Though I had heard it with my ears, I now saw it with my eyes.
Back into my studies, I was distracted by another sound coming from the woods. It was not a deer sound, as they proceed cautiously, or swiftly if escaping some danger. It was not the thrashing of a squirrel or even the sound of an armadillo foraging. No, this was something else moving at a steady pace with only the faint sound of leaves moving.
The creature stepped out of the woods and neared the pond as if he thought to drink. At first I thought, maybe a German shepherd with head held high and regal. Then I thought of the sound he made coming through the woods and how his feet had a “tipping” motion. It was a coyote, a rather large one, and he was here close to the house and … the kittens, the kittens that were chasing butterflies.
Slowly I shifted my books to the side and stood up, but he caught the sight of my movement and turned toward the gravel road. I entered the house and returned with my .22. He had moved farther away beyond my range, so I laid the gun across my lap and returned to my studies though I remained watchful.
Sometime later Sam stepped out on the porch and asked what I was doing. I replied, “Studying my Sunday School lesson.”
“With a .22 across your lap?”
I explained the appearance and disappearance of the coyote. We shared a look of concern. The kittens were still chasing butterflies.
Afterwards, I left my studies to feed the goldfish that have surfaced since the freezing weather. Walking toward the goldfish pond there was a domestic dog by the big lake; he was hot on a trail, so I watched to see if his trail would lead him away and it did. I’ve been known to shoot above domestic dogs on our property or to bellow from somewhere deep within, like a junkyard dog. Sam says either way, it’s pretty scary.
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