The mink appeared at first light under the apple tree, moving in that otter-roll of face to the ground and big butt to follow. Moved across the frozen garden to the seed-littered bird feeders. The squirrels had hit the trees.
No rush for him or her, the mink checked out all the yard where mice and bird had been, and was last seen in the back of the shed.
Its coat was a glossy brown, no snow white for this guy, never!
Only sharp teeth and ripping claws, or flight....
And if Ellie has kept her noise, he is denied under the shed. The mink will join a long list of renters under the shed. The sandy soil has welcomed woodchucks, skinks, rats, mice porcupines, and wild cats. Once a white weasel who took on all.
We moved in wood early this morning to beat the weather, snow and freezing rain in the forecast, yet as the light dims with the sunset, there is only a cold fog settling across the bog. Came across the plains today. The blueberry barrens above us in Whitfield, looking for snowy owls, now owls, but flocks of bluebirds in bright color settled in the trees. Wait Spring.
For tonight the snow falls heavy and wet, bowing the birch and lilac. And now heavy rain to burden the honey-suckle. The feeders are full, the stove loaded with log, we will see what the morning brings.
--Win Brooks, February 24, 2012, Alna Maine