The days of old

Like the days of old, I'm on a solo quest. Like the high school times, when there was no one to raise a pair of bins with, no one to swing a net with.

Then, I spent three glorious summers with Algonquin Park naturalists, oh those times! Almost nightly odeing trips...

Here, we just got satellite at the staffhouse. On the TV: Anne of Green Gables rerun on CBC. Outside, a bear with two cubs, baby foxes, and dragonflies up the hamules! An Exodus of turtles, Hallelujah! You almost can't walk anywhere without stepping on a Blanding's.

But solo naturalists, take this message. Leave your companions behind, grab your net, camera or bins, get out there, and suck the teet of life to the last drop!

The den of the vixen

The old, abandoned park office building. Once a place of smiling faces and childrens' laughter, it is now a place where small creatures go when they die.


The stench of decaying rabbitsfeet hangs in the dank, fly-infested air. Bits of fur and random vertebrae lay scattered about the dirt. A squirrel chatters in the distance, unaware that it will soon die. But this is also a place of life.

The tale of the horny squirrel

I watch as a downy woodpecker gingerly creeps up the lichen-covered maple limb. It listens to the language of the sapwood, careful not to miss any juicy morsel gnawing beneath. Suddenly, there is not one, but two downy friends. How lovely, I exclaimed. Wait, why is one on top of the other...Oh my.

Its spring time.

Recently, as I watched all the creatures around me but myself get hitched up, I felt a sort of sympathy for this squirrel. Tell me what you think..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GATzs3y9qsg

Afterwards, he released its pugilistic squirrel-rage upon a fellow squirrel.