The world stopped turning one hot evening in late June when my beautiful friend, my collie, Sweep, passed.
This morning I came up for air and found a five-week old collie puppy.
There was a beautiful red tail hawk perched on top of a powerpole just east of Mississinewa Battlefield. The bird was approximately across the road from the Miami Indian Cemetery. The cemetery lays claim to being the largest Miami Cemetery in Indiana. Before the Miami were civilized and Christianized, they didn't stick dearly departed into the ground to slowly rot, instead conducting an extended viewing, and hastening the Dearly Departed's return to the Sacred Elements.
I don't know what the current whitening term was for the "war" to seize the Miami Indians' Territory, "appeasement", "extirpation", "relocation", "settler protection", you know, the same process that calls extermination "ethnic cleansing" and slaughter of innocents "collateral damage".
So no one who died until the 1870's, before which the Miami had been awarded plots of land and cash settlements, which were, largely, swindled or married from them, is buried there. And they were relieved from "tribal" status, which has never been restored. For example: under US Law, a person 1/64th Seminole receives benefits from one of the largest Tribal Casinos in the country, while a full-blooded Miami has no rights as a native American. None.
So I glassed the red tail, hiding behind the windshield, moving closer, fifty feet at a time, then stopping the engine (the vibrations interfere with 10X glassing), until a car in a hurry to get nowhere (there's one way in, one way out) blasted him off the pole.
A couple of miles around the corner, to the north, I spotted an American Kestrel on a wire in an overgrown barnyard. I watched for a few minutes until the kestrel took wing, doing a 9, circling the perch then heading north.
There was a Great Egret in Grant Creek, wary, interrupted.
Then I drove, and drove, and drove some more.
Turning south to cross Red Bridge and head home, I noted a large, odd-looking shape perched on top of a powerpole on the bridge.
Amazing. An Osprey. Feeding on what I never determined.
I don't recall ever glassing an Osprey, and it was just the best. The longer I watched, the less recognizable the victuals became. Eventually a car behind slowed, and I moved on, to share.
Around the first bend a doe stood in the middle of the road. She moved into the growth on the east side of the road at pace designed to maximize the interest of Abbe, who responded with a frenzy only a companion would abide.
The Old Trail, a handy shortcut, has recently been chip-and-sealed, and a fortuitous k-turn found two red tails at the next intersection.
I watched for a few minutes, and observed something just too cool. The female (assumed, from relative size) flew off to the northwest, towards a small woods. Seconds later the male flew also, and made a pass so vey close it was everything except a collision. Nothing I've read credits red tails with notable flying skills, but this pass was that close.
Wonderful, just wonderful.