The seasons, they are a changin'. It doesn't take a glance at the calender to tell that the clock is winding down towards trapping season. The weather is still hot, and the air uncomfortably muggy. The tourists still circle like sharks, leaving their blinkers on and generally not knowing where they are going. I would compare them to lemmings, but that whole lemming thing is a myth.
But change is happening. The osprey that have been busy flying back and forth from ocean to nest, laden with their catch, have stopped.
Now the osprey take the time to play, and wheel, and circle. The nests are deserted.
Crows are gathering up into groups, no longer spending time in pairs and threes.
The mornings are darker.
School starts tomorrow and my children are giddy with excitement.
We had our first hurricane.
Bill roiled off of our coast over the last couple of days throwing giant surf our way. The air smelled of debris and decompositions, and salt covered everything.
I could hear the crash of the waves from my house when I walked out of the house in the morning, my coffee cupped in one hand.
Mist hung low over everything, shrouding the trees like the mists of a rainforest.
Birds stayed perched, not flying, just watching.
The waves rolled in, relentlessly pounding against the dunes that protect our little island.
The surfers did their best to take advantage of the situation. They were funny in their excitement. But they weren't the easiest waves to catch.
Notice the two parts of the surfboard.
So now we wait, and we watch the weather channel. I'll be watching for cold fronts moving down, pushing the migrating falcons. I have some paperwork to fill out to get our trapping spot.
It'll be soon.