Mulling things on my morning ramble with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
I am beginning to think the ice fishermen are either messing with me or are borderline nuts.
Their ice shanty is still on the small ice cap on the south end of the south pit. It is like a piece of dirt marooned on an ice cube in a cold drink.
The rest of the town pond, both the north and south old clay pits, opened up since yesterday.
Have I mentioned how much I hate time change in the spring. I just drag ass for a week until my body readjusts.
Set out this morning in the dark to the racket of robins up and down the street. Too early for the mourning doves.
A rabbit tried to pull the statue trick on Storm as we passed the neighbor with the bur oaks. Didn't fool a trusty mutt like Storm. The meathead gave chase and surprised himself when he realized he was close enough to actually bite down on the rabbit.
That kind of confused him and he sort of stopped as though his meathead brain couldn't process the possibility of actually catching the critter.
Cardinals and robins competed for volume as we neared the town pond. Only light enough to hear one or two red-winged blackbirds.
The adventures of the meathead were hardly done. As we neared the bridge over the neckdown between the two pits, Storm chased a muskrat into the water. Then he looked around like he didn't quite know what to do.
The pair of Canada geese swam by a point near the island. My guess that they would be on their island nest by Sunday was off by at least a day.
Another muskrat swam off as we mushed down the muck along the east side. Haven't seen muskrats in months, now we see two in one morning.
Spring is here.
BTW, ``Muskrat Love'' may be one of the most awful songs ever recorded. It is wrong on so many levels.
As we neared town, despite yet another miserable gray morning, it was light enough that doves started their cooing all around towns.
A gray squirrel scurried off down an alley.