The season of decapitation

DSCF0229Mike’s been leaving headless mice all over the place. Not sure if the hindquarters aren’t as tasty, or if it’s a gift, or if he’s just showing off. (Meaning my cat Mike, of course, not my brother Mike.)

Today is probably the last of our truly gorgeous fall mornings for the year. It was 25 degrees when I went out running, cold enough for the last major batch of leaves to come down. The whole time I was out, I was running through flutters of red, yellow, green, brown. I really like the mulberries, which don’t even bother to change color, just chunk their leaves to the ground all in one day as soon as it’s cold enough.

On my last quarter mile I was passing lots of parents on the bike path as they took their kids to school and daycare. One mom was picking up sugar maple leaves to show her three-ish daughter as they wuffled through a pile of them, but the daughter had no interest. Looked sort of depressed. Then a guy rode his bike past with his kid in a trailer; her hood was flopped half over her face as she sent this glazed stare out the trailer’s plastic window. The next kid-in-trailer was actively bawling.

Then I turned the corner they’d just come from, and, ew. The back three quarters of a skunk was lying up against the railroad track, with gooey red internal skunk stuff smeared all over the rail. The head had either gotten stuck to a train wheel or something had eaten it, because it was nowhere in sight. Things did not smell good. Geez, no wonder those kids had that scarred-for-life look.

I found a frosty burdock leaf and removed the corpse into a ditch.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s