Living as I now do, just west of Markdale, caused a little concern when I first heard that a bear was seen in that locality.
My initial thought was that maybe someone had caught a glimpse of my non-pyjama-clad butt as I passed my upstairs bed-sitting room window. Not so – it was apparently a notation in the Toronto Star. A forward of the picture was sent to me by e-mail a short time later.
I printed off a copy so I could make reasonable comparisons. No way! No matter how or what angle that showed up in the mirror’s reflection could a mistake have been made. It was a black and white print, with the portion viewed of my backside in the mirror being quite white, and the bear was definitely black. Perhaps that could be reckoned as a win-win situation.
Incidentally, on the morning of the night before when the bear was seen, my son went out to check on the goats. They were all crowded in the north corner of the fenced paddock and refused to change location when my son tried walking among them. It was obvious that something had greatly disturbed them during the darkness of night. We chalked it down to possible coyotes, checking and rechecking the fence.
Thinking back, I recalled the peacocks kicking up quite a squall along about four o’clock in the morning. This I’d heard before, as they give a series of warning calls each time they see something they don’t feel comfortable with.
Twice this happened in the daylight hours last year when they saw the coyotes cross the fresh-cut hayfield. They do the same if a rat or cat passes near their territory. Peacocks are really good watchdogs.
This past Thursday our first hay was cut. We cut late in the afternoon, as science has suggested that the grasses hold the highest vitamin content at that time. Having light winds and sunshine in our favour, the fast- drying hay was turned by tedding prior to noon the following day.
Although there was a heavy nighttime dew, almost like a light rain, Saturday morning brought sunshine and brisk breezes once again. By noon, the hay was once again turned, and by three o’clock the thunk, thunk, thunk of the bailer was heard doing its job. It was methodically laying out a series of sweet-smelling square bales.
Along about 3:30 a grandson, in his early 20s, showed up with a couple of his friends. Two more showed up moments later, hauling an additional hay wagon behind their truck.
Needless to say, by the time the bailer spit out the last bail, well before sundown, it was on the wagon on its way to the barn. Isn’t it wonderful what a little young muscle can do? They were rewarded with free beer and some big thick steaks on the barbecue.
Later that night the rain came down in torrents. It makes one believe in guardian angels, doesn’t it? Perhaps it is because I have a direct line upstairs.
Take care, ‘cause we care.
barrie@barriehopkins.ca
519-986-4105