It doesn't take long after nightfall before they begin to arrive, singly, in pairs, in little family groups. We've no idea how many in total, but hazard a dozen, from kits to juveniles to adults. They're invariably well-behaved and confident. They make themselves comfortable for as long as they intend to stay. And they arrive in succession. It almost seems as though they wait politely until one group leaves before ascending the porch and beginning their own repast. 

 

 

I was a little surprised yesterday afternoon when I saw the usually belligerent little black squirrel with the red-enhanced tail who always picks fights with other black squirrels, calmly accept the presence of a little chipmunk, daintily selecting peanuts in close proximity to one another. The chipmunks are usually wary of the presence of squirrels, but not this time. The squirrels too, like the raccoons, often arrive in pairs, and there are times when four of them accommodate one another's presence.

It's less frequently that we see grey squirrels and they tend to be loners. And though we see small red squirrels fairly often, they too don't seem to wish to tolerate the close presence of any others, either red, grey or black. They're all a little different. 

 

We used to think of the crows as being flighty, and they are; the least bit of movement they detect will see them lifting off and we attribute that to the well-enough-known fact that most people don't like these very intelligent birds about. The song sparrows come around very often, but we haven't heard them sing all summer, and now they're once again beginning to trill their peerless songs as though welcoming fall. Yesterday a pair of bluejays came along; bluejays love peanuts. As flighty as the crows are, bluejays are even more susceptible to reacting when they feel insecure, unlike the song sparrows and the cardinals.

 

Tomorrow is the first day of October, and it's getting progressively colder. This morning at 7:00 Irving put on the gas fireplace to warm up the family room adjacent the kitchen and breakfast rooms. We left it on for its comforting warmth throughout breakfast, until the warmth of the sun began to penetrate the stained glass windows and the house began to feel more comfortable.

Irving spent hours downstairs in his workshop, assembling a new door to hold a stained glass insert. He's toying with plans for the insert design and is thinking of two roundels, one depicting a stream with fish and a bear fishing them. Another would be an alpine landscape with a mountain goat. Sounds a little fussy and complicated, he may change his mind. I was involved in more mundane things, doing the laundry.

 

By mid-afternoon Jackie and Jillie were getting fairly antsy despite my taking them out repeatedly to the backyard where they burst out the sliding doors, dash down the stairs of the deck, and through to the back fence behind the garden sheds, racing after squirrels and chipmunks. It's my opportunity to conduct some assessment on what next to do in my ongoing garden fall clean-up sessions. We used to do them in one fell swoop, but that was back then; it's just too difficult, time-consuming and exhausting.

 

No need for anything to be worn over their haircoats today, not with that full-out sun, though we wore light jackets in view of the wind and the always-cooler atmosphere prevailing in the forest. We're seeing more fungi now that we're seeing fewer wildflowers. In their own way, mushrooms are just about as interesting in their variety of colour and shapes as are flowers.

 

When we were down by the creek before finishing up our extended trail loop this afternoon we were pleased to see a number of little goldfish swimming about. They hadn't all been picked off after all by the passing great blue heron, or the little boys intent on gathering them up for aquariums. I think by now there is quite a number of small-fry in any event, harder to see, and black, not orange, the colour that gives their presence away. 

 

While we were down at the creek there was a sudden loud sound, as though someone nearby was starting up a crochety old gas-powered chainsaw. The loud, prolonged ripping sound, Irving pointed out to me, though it had a mechanical creak to it, was in fact the sound of a large tree cracking off and falling...