Off work, and already my earlier attitude has subsided somewhat. I do regret inserting anger into an otherwise nearly perfectly serene (ignoring the occasional biochemical or predator instigated catastrophe) pond blog. It's the job thing interfering with my normally peaceful life again. If I didn't have to work I wouldn't have to choose what annoys me the least. And if I didn't work for a police department I wouldn't know about many of the things that I subsequently choose to be furious about. And if I didn't have the imprinted yet completely unrealistic attitude that the police can easily fix whatever is wrong, I wouldn't be so upset when it doesn't get fixed. Caught in my own trap.
The Bittern may really be gone for good now, but he was still here last week while the boat was running around loose in the water. (Thanks for rescuing it Ron, and by the way, the above was partially directed at you.) My sister said that he - the bittern, and here I'm wondering how we determined that it was male - floated around on the boat, staring into the water. What a strange bird, like a gnome, and when he acknowledged your presence it was only with his eyes while his body did other things - sometimes fly away. The berm seems vacated. The reeds are almost dead and so are the lilies, but the penny wort still looks strong. There are a few small birds in the reeds still, and sometimes I hear something larger moving through them, but no frogs and very few insects left. Mainly bees and wasps. The bees are a strange addition, and the first reaction of people who find them on their property is to have them exterminated. We get those calls frequently now and no one really knows that any of them are Africanized bees. I don't even know that I would mind if they are. Our own bees are dying, possibly up to 3/4 gone by now, and Africanized bees are coming anyway so we may as well get it over with. Either exterminate them, or make some sort of mutually beneficial adjustment, such as, "you pollinate our plants and make honey, and we let you live here".
The day before yesterday (I think. My days and nights are confused.) my sister, Camron and I were sitting by the entrance to the pond, just being amazed by how neat the day was. The dogs have a constant game of racing up and down the fence and barking loudly when any of us assemble and they had that going on so we weren't talking very much, but suddenly a very loud screeching sound started drowning the dogs out. Linda asked, "what is that?", and when we looked up, one of the kestrels was hovering right above us, deciding whether or not to get the smallest chihuahua (Cleo - the included photo). It was sort of freaky since they are usually not so bold, but the dog is about the size of what they eat. The dog was saved, but we need to remember that and watch when she is out (I know you read this Cashmere. Pay attention but don't let your husband harrass the birds.). They are really interesting creatures, and a pair, maybe the same one, has always lived in the very small grove of elm trees south of the pond. We don't see them a lot, but they aren't so much timid as practical. Why should they bother with us if we never bother them? And why shouldn't they eat something that closely resembles a well-fed rat?