Photo Bomb Cardinal

 "How strange

 that Nature does not knock,

 and yet does not intrude."                                                                

                  ~Emily Dickinson

On a rainy day last week, after yoga, before our morning walk,

 the cherry blossoms beckoned us from the windows.  

One of the yogis, the good Dr. Pearl McHaney, 

stepped out on the deck to take a sweeping video 

of the annual March extravaganza.

 The cardinal did not knock.

~dkm 3-11-23

Backyard Lesson Learned Again and Again

How I missed the big thing beside it, I can’t imagine, when first I bent to investigate the small thing I saw in the leaves.  I even congratulated myself on my improved observational skills after fourteen years of nature blogging. The premise of the blog, after all, is what one can see for the simple act of paying attention. Time was, I mused, I might not have noticed this little patch of fur as I walked by. 

Leaning in close, I was already thinking it would become the subject of a post on how nature serves up mysteries one can never solve—like what sort of kerfuffle happened here––like who had been eaten in the foodchain such patch of fur represents–-like who was the predator and who was the prey? Perhaps a rabbit or squirrel had lost a battle royale and been carried off in the talons of an owl or a hawk. I often hear a barred owl hooting in the trees, and sometimes a lone red-tailed hawk screams overhead. Cottontail rabbits and gray squirrels abound in this Georgia backyard habitat. Those were the targets of my best guesses for questions that could never be answered with 100% certainty.

 

I practically had the post written in my mind as I pulled out my phone to take the photo, stepping left for a better angle. Imagine my surprise when that one leftward step answered this particular mystery loud and clear—or at least the prey half of it–– nearly causing me to trip and fall.  I still don't know how I could have been so blindly focused on a small patch of fur that I missed an entire dead possum adjacent, eyes plucked out, rib bones scraped bare, but I've revised my guess about the predator. Now I think it might have been a coyote or fox. We've seen both in the vicinity. 

In the header of this blog, I reflected that the simple act of paying attention outside has taught me to expect the unexpected.  If measured by the shock I registered at nearly tripping on a possum carcass, I haven't learned that bit of wisdom as well as I thought I had. Here's to continuing my education in the infinite classroom that is my own backyard. ~dkm