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| Home sweet home. . . there's a nest (den?) of furry creatures in here, probably keeping house in the open pipes of the now dry waterfall works. |
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago
He saw an animal that liked to growl
Big furry paws and he liked to howl
Great big furry back and furry hair
"Ah, think I'll call it a bear"
He saw an animal up on a hill
Chewing up so much grass until she was filled
He saw milk coming out but he didn't know how
"Ah, think I'll call it a cow"
Man gave names to all the animals
In the beginning, long time ago
(Lyrics by Bob Dylan)
What is there about names that make them so essential to our enjoyment of the natural world? This morning, when we discovered that our pond side bushes had been overtaken by a nest of furry creatures and their kits, it immediately launched a discussion over whether they were minks (Stan) or martens (Kathleen).
(They definitely weren't weasels, not because we didn't want to be known as weasel hosts, but they just didn't look very weasly)
We didn't see them for long. Stan was sanding the new deck railing bright and early when the shy, brown, furry adult briefly slipped across the rocks and deeper into the bush. This gave time for Stan to summon Kathleen and then, obligingly, a furry-tailed youngster casually worked its way across the rocks, oblivious to our stares and whispered comments.
We now know what happened to the nest of duck eggs containing a golf ball that was discovered and reported on earlier this spring.
Mr. Google is little help, in our search for a proper name. Pictures there of Mr. Marten look just like pictures of Mr. Mink.
Our camera is now dangling at the ready on the deck and we hope to get lucky next time, so that you can weigh in on the proper ID for these furry creatures raising a family under our noses.
(These images from Wikipedia.)
What is there about names that make them so essential to our enjoyment of the natural world? This morning, when we discovered that our pond side bushes had been overtaken by a nest of furry creatures and their kits, it immediately launched a discussion over whether they were minks (Stan) or martens (Kathleen).
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| Marten |
(They definitely weren't weasels, not because we didn't want to be known as weasel hosts, but they just didn't look very weasly)
We didn't see them for long. Stan was sanding the new deck railing bright and early when the shy, brown, furry adult briefly slipped across the rocks and deeper into the bush. This gave time for Stan to summon Kathleen and then, obligingly, a furry-tailed youngster casually worked its way across the rocks, oblivious to our stares and whispered comments.
 |
| Mink |
Mr. Google is little help, in our search for a proper name. Pictures there of Mr. Marten look just like pictures of Mr. Mink.
Our camera is now dangling at the ready on the deck and we hope to get lucky next time, so that you can weigh in on the proper ID for these furry creatures raising a family under our noses.
(These images from Wikipedia.)
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| Now we know what happened. This nest of duck eggs, containing a golf ball, was located near what is now a den of martens or mink. It disappeared. Not sure what they did with the golf ball. (Omelete ala Callaway?) |
