First a chipmunk beside my chair.
Then a bird nesting above the door.
A fox barking at the boys beside the fire.
A buck grazing near the bath tub while I shower.
A hummingbird too, circling me, and the spray of water, on consecutive mornings.
Cue the yellow butterflies escorting our departures from home, and our returns too.
On the evening walk, a beaver paddles by.
In the morning, an eagle swoops overhead.
In the afternoon a hawk.
A salamander scurries at foot.
A raccoon, straight out of a picture book, joins our picnic, helps himself to compost, stares back at our pointing, our oohs and awes, and the dogs, do nothing, no barks; they don’t even lift their heads.
Has someone changed the rules?