Last night, in the cove at Plymouth Rez, our cove, where the itinerant stump presently resides, there was a disturbance in the water. It reminded me of the beaver we'd seen the night before, swimming to and fro, only there was more than swimming going on in this instance, and I wasn't sure it was a beaver at all. I walked past the pop-up and got within 30 feet of the, um, activity, and could see two snapping turtle carapaces floating on the surface. Then heads, and tails, and outstretched limbs and splayed feet, and grappling and wrestling. An odd groaning and grunting, besides. What the hell? The heads were huge. Nerf football sized. Snapping turtles mating? Maybe, but they looked to be the same size, and females are supposed to be smaller. So two males fighting, maybe. Or maybe two gay males, not that there's anything wrong with that. It went on for quite some time. Half an hour? Then they were gone.
So fine. Big deal. Then this morning, a great blue heron lands near the fireworks mound, and stands stock still in the water, as I watch from the basement, covered in fiberglass filaments. Then it moves six inches along the shore. Then stops. Then six inches more. Then stops. It takes it fifteen minutes to make it to the dock, six inches at a time. Then it flies off, accomplishing nothing. But the GBH is definitely related to the dinosaur. Creepy.
That was enough for me, but ten minutes ago, an eagle flies up from nearby trees, or somewhere, wherever eagles hang out, and soars around for ten minutes, higher and higher, until I can't see it anymore. Buzzards wobble. Eagles soar.
Anyway, enough is enough. Think I'll have another beer and then a nap. And keep my eye out for that bear. At this rate, he's probably headed my way.