In his prime, our now-departed – and deeply missed - cat Satchel was a hefty guy. Even as a kitten he stood taller than most cats, and he definitely outweighed the little Scottie dog that he’d chase back up the street from time to time.
Our neighbor across the street reported that on more than one occasion, their visitors would swear they just saw a bear in the yard. But it was just old Satch, on one of his hunting missions.
If life were a novel, those sightings would have been foreshadowing of the latest events here in suburbia. We may have an acre of woods in our back yard, and several more at the end of our street, but we’re only about a city block from the center of town. And yes, we have deer and wild turkeys, but so do the golf courses, for Pete's sake.
|Yes, that's Jim's backyard putting green.|
The wildlife stakes around here appear to have been bumped up a notch, since this was spotted in the backyard of our neighbor Jim, who lives two houses away.
Every August our peach tree produces plenty of ping-pong balls of fuzzy fruit, and every year visions of peach pies and cobblers and I don’t know what-all dance in my head. And every August we go to Cape Cod for a week and come back to a stripped tree and enough peach pits on the lawn to make a trip up the hill to the mailbox an obstacle course. We were amazed at the industry of the squirrels and the deer.
I think I know who to blame.