Coyote continues the daily patrol around its hunting grounds here on the ranch. In the early morning hours, howls from an expanding family have grown fairly intense. Life is making a dramatic rebound now that the drought has ended; even a family of feral hogs has taken up residence inside the woods, breaking into the protein feeder pens meant for the deer on a somewhat nightly basis.
The trees are as full of leaves as I have ever seen them, but cracks are starting to open across the surface of the ground again, as expected during the 100 degree days of a late July in Texas. Though there was a time when I might have sat in such heat beneath a spinning ceiling fan with little breeze blowing through the window screens, I am now very thankful for the cool breeze flowing from the air conditioner. Comforts of home become even more appreciated with age.
Last Wednesday, I watched a buzzard soar on a thermal to heights I have never seen before. I kind of imagined some cartoonish setting where all the other buzzards were eating on the side of the highway and one points to the sky saying something like, “Look at old Dodge; he’s going for the record!” All become so lost in the sight that they don’t even notice the semi-truck rolling down the highway until the last second at which point they all scream and fly different directions before returning, only to have the same buzzard make another remark about old Dodge, as if their close call with death had never mattered at all. For the record, it is my personal opinion that old Dodge wound up in the record book and is still working his way back to Earth.
Whether your feet are linked to the ground or you have the wings of a bird, don’t ever forget to take time every now and then to soar, at least when the weather permits.