As we neared the town pond, a sharp brightness routed the pre-dawn darkness. The railroad guys had those massive banks of lights construction workers use for night work.

It discombobulated me. And I suspect it did the same for the critters, too.

With that kind of intrusion into the natural flow of the world around the town pond, I didn't expect much by the way of wildlife.

And there wasn't.

Other than the lights from the highway from a half a mile away, there wasn't anything noteworthy on the fringes of the extended ramble.

The belted kingfisher flew off raucously from the north end of the north old clay pit, but it was too dark to pick it out.

As we crossed the bridge between the neckdown between the two old pits, a muskrat dove in with such a hard splash from the northeast corner of the south pit that Storm surged violently toward the water, his inner Labness making a return.

I take a perverse pleasure in his inner Labness.

The railroad guys were working in the area where the meathead and I usually come out behind the feed mill and reenter town.

Massive sections of track, including an extended switching cross track, were piled around so high that we circled back into the park.

Walking through an area of the park Storm normally doesn't reach stirred his inner Labness even more.

New stuff to sniff. Sometimes I wonder what info he learns from his sniffs. What passed in the night? Who left a calling card?

At least for him, it was an interesting morning.