Three more sleeps

With just three more sleeps until the big day (the final move to the island, with all critters and household effects), things are somewhat chaotic as I try to pack, repair, clean, tend the lawn, and keep the critters' routines as normal as possible.

The weather is cooperating - touch wood - with cooler temperatures than last week, but no rain (again, touch wood). It is near perfect weather for me - fairly sunny with a light breeze, warm enough for short sleeves but not so hot to make me lethargic.

Our main event around here has been the bears - they are plentiful this year, and very visible. I think something may have happened to the mama of triplets, spotted with the cubs a few weeks ago; we now see one or more of the cubs frolicking in the fields and gorging on the skunk cabbage and other delicacies, but no sign of mama. One of the cubs, either a large one from this year or a small one from last, appears injured - he is limping, and falls over frequently. We are trying to get help for him, but apparently the sole conservation officer responsible for checking it out is too busy elsewhere. It is worrisome.

I have not seen the three cubs together, nor even in twos, though a difference in the size of the injured one and the playful one assures me I am not just seeing the same single bear. I see one or another of the cubs at least twice a day, and the huge papa bear pays a visit every few days.

Yesterday morning, this cutie greeted me as I opened the drapes on the patio doors:



The dogs and I are enjoying halcyon days in the pasture, the dogs running and playing and rolling (and trying to reach the bear and coyote scat before I do), and I am taking pleasure in watching them. Birds are everywhere - hawks and eagles and woodpeckers, sparrows and swallows and robins and wrens. One new songster has joined us, in the trees at the top of the hill - with a clear, sweet, melodic song that I don't recognize. I have only caught a glimpse of him - smaller than a sparrow, larger than a chickadee - but was unable to identify his colours or silhouette from his perch at the very tip of a tall tree.

I saw Brazen Coyote with a female a few weeks ago, and have not seen them since, but I think they have produced kits as there is lots of coyote scat, in adult and kit sizes, on the path through the pasture.

And the pasture grasses and flowers are growing exponentially. Some days, keeping track of the dogs is a game of "Where's Waldo?"



Daisies are appearing in profusion - white in the pasture, deep yellow by the sides of the road:






The llamas next door watch us closely - I think they still search for signs of Martin. Sorry, llamas, Martin finally has a herd of his own.




Finally, I am close to getting an acceptable picture of Oliver in flowers, to complete my set of each of my dogs in the pasture. I do love photos of dogs in fields of yellow flowers!