Don’t even try talking to me before I’ve sucked down a couple of cups of coffee. Coffee must be sucked down while I’m out on the front porch, with a cheap cigar.
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When I walk out onto my front porch to enjoy that first cup of coffee or two, I’m usually greeted by the neighborhood squirrels. Around a dozen of them. They’re usually in the tree directly in front of the house or in the one off to the side, taking turns picking corn kernels off the cobs I have spiked to the trees. More are off in the distance running around through the bare winter branches.
A variety of birds are usually at the feeder not far away and I particularly like to watch the handful of doves that have decided to stick around all winter. I like the sound they make.
Today there was nothing. Not a squirrel or a bird or a sound from any of them.
Odd indeed.
Then from a tree a couple of hundred feet away, a big dark shape lifted off a branch. The bald eagle glided expertly through the trees, heading down to the Fox River.
That would explain things.
Within minutes the doves stopped by, then a few more birds. They were cooing and singing again.
Still haven’t seen a squirrel though.
