by Curt Kovener
There were all types of nature’s wonderment as I navigated out the wilderness lane on the way to church. And fortunately, I left early enough to allow for some time to watch the show.
It is mating season for the endangered Eastern Box Turtles and the boys are traveling looking for female companionship. Not once, but twice I stopped while a land turtle with amorous intentions crossed the lane in front of me seeking romance.
If I see them out on the highway and the roadway is clear behind me, I will stop and help them across. Not to speed them on their way to their date but to help insure an inattentive driver doesn’t send them to an early demise. Turtles really can’t hurry to get out of the way of fast approaching vehicles, you know.
Continuing on the trek out the lane I saw (how do I phrase this in a family newspaper) a pile of poop. A pile of fuzzy poop. The fuzz having formerly been the fur on some woodland creature but has now passed through the digestive system on a coyote. And taking a dump on a well traveled path is what coyotes do to let all other critters know they are in the area.
So I guess that make coyotes precise particular poopers as in contrast to the indiscriminate offerings to the earth that Charley, my yellow lab, provides.
Continuing on my way out the lane that morning, I apparently broke up a fight. There was this squirrel with his back to me standing up on his back legs in the middle of the road.
Across the ring…I mean, lane… were three crows kind of bobbing and weaving their way towards the squirrel which had his tail and all of his hair fluffed out to make the biggest menacing impression he could. I rather imagined he was on his back legs with his fists clenched and goading the crows to make their best move.
I am not sure what the cause of the confrontation was, but my vehicle’s sudden appearance made all aggressors scatter to various trees thus ending the impending fight.
And it was for the best, I suppose. Afterall, I thought on my way to church: Blessed are the peacemakers.
