WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

It was not so very long ago that we were chugging along in our chukka boots or sporting our fleece-lined Uggs, and now suddenly we are barefoot and wearing minimal clothes. Well Summer is just around the corner, arriving this Saturday … it sure feels like it is here already – whew! When I stepped out of the house this morning to leave for my walk, I glanced over at my neighbor Marge’s deck to check out the thermometer … it read 75 degrees and it was only 7:30 a.m. My eye caught the beautiful dark purple Jackmanii clematis climbing up the trellis in Marge’s yard and crawling along the fence between our respective houses and I couldn’t resist snapping a picture – they are just beautiful aren’t they? The larger clematis blooms in the foreground are from a potted plant I had enjoyed all Summer many years ago. That Fall we planted the large clematis in Marge’s garden near the fence to see if it would “take” and return to wow us in the Spring. It did and has since never failed to disappoint. My daily treks take me through several neighborhoods and the perennials are blooming much later than usual due to the harsh Winter, so hopefully, they all come back eventually. For sure the hibiscus and other tropical varieties of ornamental bushes and trees are thriving in this heat and humidity. As to me, I returned home from a short walk feeling much like the Wicked Witch of the West when she slowly melted into a pool on the ground.

My posts are often related to the weather, because weather is often the decisive factor to determine whether or not a walk will be taken and how far to stray from home. Will it be hot? Cold? Sunny? Rainy? Sigh … too many variables go into the decision and I usually rely heavily on the weather folks. Too often they’re wrong. Some need to go back to meteorology school. Last night I consulted multiple forecasters from two radio stations and two TV stations. All predicted storms overnight and in the early morn, so I decided to indulge in extra snooze time, only to awake to sun filtering into my room. So, I did some scramblin’ so I could get ramblin’ before I needed to start my workday. I only managed to get in a two-mile walk since I left so late … tomorrow, I’ll just get up and go with the flow. (P.S. – watch it rain.) As a ramblin’ woman, seeking to put some serious mileage on my walking shoes and keep myself healthy as well, I’ve got ultra-possessive of my walking time. It was already difficult and dicey to factor in housework, let alone the inevitable garden chores that must be done. I gritted my teeth yesterday while spending two hours’ time trying to restore some order to the backyard, where wild ivy and creeping Charlie had meandered through the perennials and bushes grabbing on for dear life with a death grip since I’d last been out there two weeks ago. Purple nightshade had invaded as well and woven itself in and out of the barberry bushes and thorny pyracantha. Still other weeds resembling a bean stalk had huge leaves and one-inch thick stems which emitted a milky substance when I lopped them off with my pruning shears and it was stinky to boot. I’m embarrassed to say I filled a yard waste bag to the brim with these wicked weeds before hustling off on my walk. But, if there was a bright spot on Sunday morning, it was admiring my handiwork in restoring my beautiful clematis and bringing my rosebushes back to life after giving them up for dead. Yes, the Nelly Moser clematis has climbed back, kicking and clawing and ramblin’ up the trellis as I crowed about in my June 2nd post about mauve twinkles. On Mother’s Day I cut eight rosebushes down to six inches tall. The stems on the four light pink Bonica rosebushes at least were supple, but they looked sickly; they have revived and are already blooming profusely. The stems and branches of the red Knock Out rosebushes were brown and brittle with many black canes. It was a longshot and I was gamblin’ mightily that they’d even come back at all, and in my mind, I sadly pronounced my four Knock Out rosebushes down for the count after loading nine bags of dead branches into yard waste bags. I lamented their demise in the next day’s post. But I persevered, put blinders on as to how they looked and continued to bury organic rose food around the base and I kept my fingers crossed. It seems that three of the four Knock Out rosebushes are alive and kickin’ … they will not reach the top of the chain link fence for awhile, as you see in the picture above, but on Father’s Day, a mere month after I whacked them back, I observed a dozen blooms and they are thriving. My heart is happy. My faith is restored. Who says you shouldn’t mollycoddle your plants? It’s a tough world out there and a little TLC never hurt anyone or anything.

What’s good for the goose is good for the gander, so since we honored Mother’s Day, we must also fête our fathers as well on their special day. It appears this is what you do in the avian world as well, because look what we have in the photo above … . at least fifteen, full-size geese racing down the perimeter path at Council Point Park so that they could break bread with their respective fathers. Given the amount of geese at the Park, there could be several generations of geese gathering to wish Dad their best blessings on this Father’s Day. Just sayin’.

Truthfully, I guess you could say that I staged this event. I followed up a two-hour morning session of yanking weeds, which were here, there and everywhere in the backyard, with a trip to Council Point Park. I often tell you in my blog posts how I feel like the Pied Piper of Hamelin when trodding along the perimeter pathway and the squirrels start dashing to and fro, waylaying me in an effort to ply me for treats. (P.S. – they really don’t have to ply me too much, as I’m always willing to shell out for them.) Often, if I don’t act quickly enough and toss a few peanuts to them, because I happen to be visiting with someone, looking the other way, or perhaps taking a picture, they seek to distract me and get my attention. It is all about them sometimes. These Park squirrels are not shy about walking behind me until I turn around and acknowledge them. Sometimes I see their shadow. Sometimes I hear the click, click, click of their toenails, and still other times … well, you know how you get the feeling someone is trailing behind you …well, I get that feeling and I’ll swivel my head around. Sometimes I know I have a follower because a walker approaching from the opposite way on the path will smile and say “looks like you’ve found a friend” so I turn around then. Well, I enjoy interacting with those squirrels.

But … as for the geese, well, that is a different story. I cannot conceal my disappointment that the mallard ducks are gone because that was kind of nice to stand on the cement landing, toss bread out and watch them diving or paddling over to grab some pieces, their beautiful, iridescent, teal-colored heads glinting in the sun. The geese are okay – a little disgruntled, loud and often a tad too animated, but I enjoy watching them interact with their offspring . I defrosted some stale bread I had saved in the freezer and then crumbled it all up this morning to take “to go”. When I set out on the perimeter path, there was nary a goose to be found, but as I rounded the bend I saw at least two dozen Canada Geese grazing on the grass in the “donut hole” of loop #1 of the perimeter path. I thought to myself “how nice – perfect timing since I’ve got all this bread to share and there is a crowd” … so, I reached into my bag and got a hefty handful of Aunt Millie’s whole grain bread and pitched it at the eager group. One goose, who was accidently pelted with a piece of bread, turned around and hissed at me. As he quickly snarfed down the dried yeasty tidbits, I thought to myself “well, you big baby … man up, it was just bread” and I kept tossing out handful after handful. I had a good-sized bag of bread, and, as usual there were takers … a few too many actually. Soon several more geese came waddling over, then a few more, and more … quickly geese were surrounding me as they awaited a second helping. Amused, I tossed out more bread chunks. At first this gaggle of geese caused this girl to giggle. But, by now, I could hear the gears clicking in the brains of the remaining unfed geese as they stared at me as if willing their benefactor to toss out more tidbits. Well they certainly have my M.O. don’t they? The very accommodating person that I am, I repeatedly reached into the bag until I had hefted out the second-to-last handful . It was then they all charged from the center of the grass to come over to the path where I stood. Oh-oh. What to do now? Geez – this was more like a horde on the rampage than a few geese, who, like me, were out for a Sunday stroll. I grabbed up the dregs of the remaining bread and threw it in the opposite direction, hoping to distract them from me, as I grew wary watching their expectant and rather annoyed faces. One even flapped his wings at me. Yikes!! I stuffed the empty bag into my pocket and loudly proclaimed “all gone” and started to turned on my heel to leave. Their honking and hissing continued. Curiosity got the best of me and I did it – I just had to turn around and look to see if they were following me, and they were. About fifteen Canada Geese walking down the center of the perimeter path and me empty handed, with nothing to offer them. Suddenly this gaggle of geese was not making me giggle. Gulp. I waited for a group of three women walkers to round the bend and get closer to me so I could quietly join their group. As they came upon the scene, one elderly lady threw up her hands, and said “oh my goodness – will they attack us – why are they all together like this?” Since the ladies obviously hadn’t witnessed my interplay with the geese, I just played dumb, merged into their group and commented on the beautiful weather, while stating “oh them … they are just looking for a handout – I wouldn’t worry about them at all.” Whew! I’ll lay off feeding the geese for awhile and instead will wait for the ducks to return – they are much more docile. After reviewing the many pictures I managed to get of the group, it appears that the lead goose who waddled in front of the others was saying “Charge!!!” I am now rethinking taking bread to the Park going forward.

It’s Friday the 13th plus there’s a full moon tonight. Not only that, it is technically a “Super Full Moon”, a celestial rarity which won’t happen again for 35 years, so best get thee to the window or outside after dark tonight. Well, should that make us super-superstitious today then? When you think of Friday the 13th, oddball things often come to mind, so here’s where I should cue the intro music from the TV show “The Twilight Zone” followed by the euphonious, yet mysterious, voice of Rod Serling. Now that I’ve set the stage, I’ll tell the tale which accompanies the photo above of a park bench with a rather odd-looking seat slat. I pass this memorial park bench every time I walk at Council Point Park. One day it was A-OK and the next day one of the three slats was bent out of shape – literally. The slat is not damaged in the least; in fact, the veneer is intact and unmarred and there are no splinters in the wood. It is the topic of conversation amongst Park walkers as we each try to guess what happened. Did a heavy person sit on the edge of the bench? Did someone stomp on just that bench slat with soft-soled shoes? It was very humid when I took the picture and the dew drops which were hanging along the back of the bench were pendulous and looked ready to drop down like big teardrops. It was a little eerie. I’m flummoxed. I must concede that perhaps, my mind, like the park bench seat, is a trifle warped to devote an entire post to such an anomaly. But really – what gives with this? I hope you have tread through your Friday the 13th without incident. To get myself through this somewhat ominous event I did not carry along a lucky rabbit’s foot (for fear of offending any of the bunnies who might cross my path at the Park), nor did I choose to knock on wood, especially, on this wooden park bench, because surely it would smash it to smithereens.

It was a little on the steamy side when I departed for my walk this morning – yep, just hot and humid like a Summer day. I was wearing a cap-sleeved cotton shirt and still felt clammy. There were no critter treats to take along since I finished them up the other day, so I was streamlined and ready to roll nice and early. I got down to Council Point Park and had started on the first loop, when the mounds of white stuff floating on the Ecorse Creek immediately caught my eye. In the past, I described it as looking like dishwater, all sudsy and brimming over the top of the Creek. Today, I looked a little closer, (or perhaps my glasses were cleaner), and noticed it was not a film at all, but mounds of white fluff from the dandelions and cottonwood trees that had accumulated and settled atop the water as you see in the picture above. Unbelievable! It just sort of sat there since it was a calm morning and there was no wind. The fluff and stuff was bunched together in various places along the Creek, and, in other spots with no accumulated fuzzies, the water was just brown and murky. I walked only one lap today, so I was slackin’ off I guess, or perhaps the muggies got to me. You can bet the first item I checked when I got home was my A/C unit to ensure there was no white fluff clogging up the grill that needed hosing off. Surprisingly, there was none, but maybe the recent rain was slanting sideways and took it all off. This got me wondering where all that fuzz and fluff ends up eventually? No wonder that fish was jumping out of the water so quickly last week. He was probably getting asphyxiated between the fuzzies and the brown water and wanted to get out of there pronto … I can’t say that I blame him.

Every day is a new experience when I go for a walk and I hope my near-daily vignettes of life from sidewalk level make you feel like you are travellin’ the trail right alongside me. There are always people, places and things that pique my interest and provide plenty of fodder for my daily blog posts. Most of my tidbits from the trail are encounters at Council Point Park. Today, besides the usual two-legged creatures of the human variety, I was lucky enough to see seven types of “wildlife”. With my camera in tow, I had my usual “feed bag” brimming full of peanuts and bread, which I was eager to dispense. But, this morning it was not necessary to lure any one particular critter for a photo op – they all seemed to gravitate toward me. Well didn’t I feel special? I was kept busy snapping pictures of God’s many winged and four-legged creatures, which then posed the dilemma as to which one would be featured in today’s post when all was said and done? Unfortunately I wasn’t able to get a group shot of a gaggle of geese, a row of ducks, two bunnies, a trio of squirrels, one red-winged blackbird, one downy woodpecker – and, oh yes, a beautiful heron. Definitely the coup from my trip was the appearance of at least one of the mysterious mallards whose presence has eluded me all Spring since I resumed my walking regimen at the Park. This morning, I thought my heart would melt when Mama duck and her ducklings went floating by on the Creek. Too bad I had already used up all my bread tidbits on the geese and then rounded the bend and saw the duck family. To top it off, I was so busy admiring Mama and her brood, that I nearly missed the heron lurking in the reeds. I momentarily lost my footing, slid down a little on the grassy slope and this made a noise and he took flight, flapping his mighty wings before I got his picture. But he’ll show up again. The outing would have been 100 percent perfect had that beautiful swan I saw last Fall happen to glide by. My momentary escape from the Big City for the ultimate nature walk was fleeting, but the images of this treasure trove of “wildlife” will live on in my mind for a very long time and be peppered throughout future blog posts – stay tuned.

I was glad to be back at the Park this morning after yesterday’s rain ruined my morning walk. I left the house in shirtsleeves, since, during the last three outings, I shucked my sweater on the first loop. Well, that was a mistake as it was windy and I ended up with goose bumps. So, I walked faster to work up a sweat. That is, until I saw the whole Canada Goose family ahead of me and I stopped to check them out and persuade them to pose for me. Mission accomplished – take a look above. Since I last saw the trio of goslings about a week ago, they have doubled in size. Well “leggy” is nice if you’re a supermodel, but it looks a little funny on a gosling. At this stage, they look gangly and out of proportion, and … yes, even rather homely. Gone is that cuddly, gee-I-wish-I-could-scoop-you-up-and-take-you-home-with-me look they had when I first saw them on Mother’s Day weekend. Just a few more weeks ‘til they resemble their parents and probably will have the attitudes and big mouths that rival their folks’ dispositions. For now, however, it appears they’ve not yet learned the fine art of hissing and wing-flapping at their cohorts and how to honk non-stop. Give them time as they are adolescents after all, so there is bound to be push-back of some type. Now, everyone has heard the story of the ugly duckling, and I sure wouldn’t disparage these teenaged goslings, except for the fact that I’ve been there myself. There are some pictures in the old family albums (and where they shall repose permanently) and I sure didn’t look like anyone’s “darling” either. I remember well the angst of those awkward years … homely, with bad hairdos running the gamut of bangs cut on an angle giving me a rather spaced-out or quizzical look, bizarre-looking curls which were the result of a bad Toni home perm and let’s not forget that I was a victim of those hated cat-eye glasses which I started wearing on my 7th birthday. My school pictures in eighth grade were so bad my parents didn’t buy them. I was crushed. After all I was your only child and what a blow to my ego at the time! Of course my mom would remind me through the years that “beauty is only skin deep” as if that was the magic balm to soothe my wounded pre-teen and teenage psyche. I look forward to seeing the grown-up goslings in future walks … they will be sleek and beautiful geese who will graze and walk the same grounds as me and I probably won’t even recognize them. A wiser person than me tells it like it is: Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it. ~~Confucius

Well, I’m not a member of the horsey set, but, if you follow this blog, you know I am an animal lover and a bleeding heart when it comes to critters. In fact, probably not even my closest friends know that my dream as a youngster was to be a veterinarian, however, my grades in math and science in high school and my first year in college were not good enough to pursue that interest. Eventually, I had to abandon that hoped-for profession and I vicariously enjoyed James Herriot’s autobiographical series “All Creatures Great and Small” instead. I don’t follow horse racing, but usually try to watch the Kentucky Derby, Preakness and Belmont Stakes races online every year. Like most folks, I’ll root today for California Chrome in today’s running of the Belmont Stakes. Hopefully, we’ll have a new Triple Crown winner in California Chrome. What a beauty he is, this chestnut-colored colt who runs like the wind. This morning as I travelled my own version of an oval track down at Council Point Park, I found myself thinking about this colt running in the race of his life today. Just like my travels around the oval loop, there is ultimately a goal. My five miles walked today took me 1 ¼ miles to complete – of course, on a weekend I meander along the trail, lingering at the Park a little longer than usual. I understand the race today is 1½ miles, longer than the prior two races. We all tucker out as the end of the trek is near and we are on the home stretch. Hopefully, California Chrome will surge forward, as before, and cross the finish line, leaving his competitors trailing behind. The odds makers favor California Chrome and I’ll predict he shows his stellar stuff and tonight will prevail in the third jewel of the Triple Crown in horse racing. This oval track path today will surely change California Chrome’s life going forward. Oh sure, he’ll get a hug around the neck, a pat on the head, extra oats and a special rubdown tonight. He’ll be draped with white carnations and the media will glom all over him and why not? This magnificent animal will certainly deserve it and a new Triple Crown winner has been a very long time coming.

Back in 1972 I was lucky enough to pose with this pretty chestnut foal that belonged to friends of our family in Coral Gables, Florida. This colt was stabled with a racehorse Alex and Betty Kantor owned and ran at Hialeah Park Race Track back in the late 60s and early 70s. My parents and I were visiting them for a few days before taking a Bahama Islands cruise out of the port of Miami. We saw the usual tourist attractions, including the greyhound races at Hialeah Park. One day they took us to the horse farm. Immediately I fell in love with this foal and did not want to leave her at the end of our visit. She was all sweetness and goodness and followed me around the paddock like a puppy. Her shiny coat was warm from frolicking in the Summer sun and her velvety ears and soft mane endeared her to me as she nuzzled up close. What little kid didn’t want a pony growing up? Well, I did, and then, after our visit, I now coveted a horse, just like this one. Perhaps I was channeling Liz Taylor’s character “Velvet Brown” in “National Velvet” … who knows? But a horse was not in the cards for me. I wish I remembered this sweet foal’s name … perhaps her moniker contained the word “star” for obvious reasons. I know she was a star in my mind anyway and I hope California Chrome will similarly be a shining star by day’s end.

It was another coolish morning with temps in the mid-50s when I left the house. I just love this weather! Once again, it felt and sounded like Fall. Dry maple seeds or “helicopters”, which have swirled and drifted beneath maple trees and scattered themselves along City sidewalks, made a crunching noise, not unlike crumpled Autumn leaves, under my feet as I walked. This morning I mixed business with pleasure and had a two-part journey … first to Memorial Park and then down to my usual haunt – Council Point Park.

The early morning radio broadcasts were filled with programming devoted to the D-Day monumental anniversary. There were many sound bites, including a speech by FDR about that fateful day, all in advance of the 70th D-Day ceremonies to be held later. I thus had D-Day on my mind as I left the house. I decided to walk over to Memorial Park as a sign of respect to those 4,500 Allied troops who lost their lives on June 6, 1944. After leaving the pavilion area, I was remembering all the films we used to watch in history classes in middle school and high school back in the day. One of the aids our teachers used through the years were sepia-toned films about significant historical events. The films were very comprehensive and alot more interesting than reading a textbook or flipping through the “Encyclopedia Britannica” to find one-dimensional pictures and pages of text only. Those films used to have a catch-phrase: “everything is the same except YOU are there”. I mused about how we learned history versus the resources available to today’s young scholars and how very lucky modern students are since they have the Internet at their disposal. They probably don’t realize it, but it sure beats a trip to the library, checking out the card catalogue, up and down the aisles, then pawing through dusty and musty old books to do research for what seemed like endless term papers.

As if on cue, as I was thinking of my formative years, I spied a group of young boys with huge packs tethered to their backs, walking along Ferris Street – they were moving along rather dejectedly, not uttering a word to one another, shoulders hunched and heads down. I said “good morning guys – when is the last day of school?” thinking that question posed and their anticipated upcoming school break would brighten their day. Indeed it did and the trio chimed in all at once: “three more days!” It goes without saying they were excited about the last day of school – nothing changes after all these years … the anticipation of Summer vacation and no school is ageless.

When I arrived at Council Point Park, just like yesterday, the sun was high in the sky and glinted off my eyeglasses, temporarily blinding me. I got onto the perimeter path and was on my first loop, when a beautiful Downy Woodpecker flew into a nearby tree and started pecking the trunk fast and furiously. I stopped and watched since I had a clear view of both him and his handiwork on that poor tree trunk. He was oblivious to me standing there as he was intent on drilling for grubs. I whipped out my camera and turned it this way and that, checking him out in the viewfinder, so I wouldn’t get home and find a photo wherein he is a mere speck. I snapped a couple of shots and put the camera back in my pocket and just then a gentleman walked by and asked if I saw the beautiful red bird as well. I had not and told him so. He asked about my photographing the woodpecker and I told him that I write a blog and recently dusted off my digital camera to take photos to accompany my daily blog posts. He told me he occasionally read the blog posts of a woman on the hyper local news site “Wyandotte Patch”. He said “she walks all over and never drives her car” and I said “that’s me!” Well, fancy that … it made my day to talk to a stranger who follows my blog. We exchanged names and chatted amicably about walking in the Park, bird watching, writing and a smattering of other subjects over two more perimeter path loops, then we parted to take on the day and finish the rest of our respective daily routines.

The recognition of my blog posts by Bob was great fun; in fact, I thought about it all the way home. But truly, the more important recognition on this 6th day of June 2014 is for the many troops who lost their lives on D-Day. Thousands of casualties, and to think about it, or see the devastation on the big screen in “Saving Private Ryan”, was just mind boggling. Sure, I could have used that Downy Woodpecker picture for today’s post, but ever-mindful of this important anniversary, I decided to use this sepia-toned image of the veterans memorial and cannon at Memorial Park. As the years speed past us, unfortunately, by the 80th year commemoration of D-Day, there may not be any more veterans left who were present at the beaches of Normandy and able to give a personal account, so we must collectively never forget the importance of this day.

I scurried out the door to a morning blessed with sunshine and a cloudless sky. At 55 degrees, it was feeling rather Fall-ish and I sure wasn’t warm in my sweatshirt cardigan. Yesterday’s all-day rain had soaked into the mulch and it was dark brown and smelled like fresh cedar and the grass was still heavy with dew. As I walked down the driveway, the peevish robin with the big-time attitude was wrestling with a worm as he struggled to wrest it from the soggy ground. I watched him for a minute and soon he was successful and the worm was wiggling precariously from the tip of his beak. Mr. Robin saw me and dropped his prize, gave me his usual steely stare and started chattering at me. I am sure he was saying “well, she tore down my nest countless times, so just let her mess with my worm now” … I shot him back an equally icy glare and told that sour puss I’d already had my oatmeal hours ago and his breakfast did not interest me in the least. He picked up his worm and hopped away from me as fast as his two legs could carry him. As I continued on my trek to Council Point Park, the effects of yesterday’s rain were evident with large pools of water everywhere. Sparrows had congregated and were both sipping from and bathing in the big puddles in the street. I thought it was rather a brisk morning for a soak, but they were nonetheless enjoying this unexpected and rather unconventional birdbath, flipping and flapping their wings in the water. When I arrived at the Park, the sun was strong and in my eyes and it momentarily blinded me as I started on the perimeter path. I heard the usual cacophony of birdsong from the hidden areas of bushes or high nests in the trees and it was a welcome melody on this pretty morn. As I ambled along, finally the sun shifted out of my direct path, and I could see a large group of geese grazing in the baseball diamond. For once they were quiet as they contentedly stood in place, their long necks stretched to the ground to nibble the weeds and tall blades of grass. I was busy watching them from afar when a goldfinch zipped right past me and alighted on a nearby tree branch, its beautiful bright yellow and black plumage easily identifying its presence in a tall plum tree. I wished I had brought some bread or some treat to entice it to come closer or down to the ground so perhaps I could take its picture, but it flitted from branch to branch disappearing from sight. By chance I saw him another time when I had the camera in my hand and I snapped his picture for this blog post. My neighbor, Marge, fills a feeder with thistle seeds which are goldfinch magnets. From her door wall or kitchen window, she is able to watch these fine-looking goldfinches as they gather on her deck awaiting their turn at the feeder. I grew sunflowers a few years ago, hoping to lure these perky beauties to my garden, but the head of the largest sunflower, laden with seeds, broke off and toppled to the ground. The squirrels were in their glory but I doubt they shared much of their booty with the bevy of finches who were lingering nearby. As I moved along the perimeter path, once again I took note that the ducks were not present and the squirrels were similarly mysteriously MIA. On the north loop of the trail, the grass was especially long and there was red and white clover all over. As I walked, occasionally I detected a slight movement in the overgrown grass and clover, and much to my delight, I noticed baby bunnies contently munching on the clover, and enjoying the sweet nectar of this pretty weed. I know when I was young, my friends and I would pull the red or purple clover blossoms from the meadow and pluck out the inside petals to sip the sweet nectar. The grassy areas were so plentiful with clover that often the bunnies’ tall ears, shell-pink and translucent in the strong morning sun, were all that I saw above the clover … they usually saw me before I saw them and the bunnies would bolt for cover while I was still several yards away. I logged four miles this morning while enjoying the bliss of the birds and bunnies and a wee bit of peace and tranquility on the fly.