Earlier this morning (hence the low-light photography), we had a Hummingbird faceoff. (Forget the hype — they’re vicious killers.)


“You first. I insist.”


Then midday, a black bear hit the ponds for a drink (sorry for the terrible pic, just too far away and moving to find a hole in the branches).

The bear’s been around after hours too; two nights ago Wally the Wonderdog charged through a screen door after smelling the bear (“let me open that for you, oops, too late…”), then ran boldly into the back yard. I could hear the bear moving away through the trees — until Wally got the edge of the trees, and the bear decided enough was enough.

The breaking twig noises reversed direction, now heading towards the bravery-fading-by-the-inch Wonderdog, who kept up the racket, but suddenly turned and ran all the way back to the back porch and up two flights of stairs.

The Wonderdog might be dumb, but he’s not stupid.


Sorry for the blur. But he’s big.


Then the real party animals took the stage:


The real party animals.


Sadly, too dark last evening to photograph all the deer, and the fox running around all night (which makes Wally bark, which keeps us awake) will probably require one of those trail cameras.

I’m thinking of putting together a backyard tour; buy a couple of beater cars, paint them with zebra stripes, and we’ve got Bear Country Safari.

Cheesy, but up here you learn never to ignore a revenue stream…

See you wondering what’s next, Tom Chandler.